


Italian Affairs

by BreitzbachBea



Series: Like Father Like Son [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate universe - Mafia, Canon LGBTQ Character, Comedy, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 164,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreitzbachBea/pseuds/BreitzbachBea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months have gone by since Harry O’Connel’s troublesome mission in Palermo, now he is heading north to central Italy! </p><p>His business partner and boyfriend Michele Vento has a score to settle with the Vargas Clan, taking the Irish with him to help and deepen their bonds – in more than one way.<br/>But while Harry and Michele want to enjoy a romantic weekend in Rome, their bodyguards' hearts are turned upside down on an emotional rollercoaster:<br/>Charlie despairs due to his unrequited crush on Marco – who is starting to wonder if he is really not requiting the other’s feelings.<br/>And as everyone is caught up in their own little love affairs, something else starts stirring up in the eternal city which has more than one ace up its sleeve for the Mafiosi …</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peek

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER: While I do research for my stories, I want to explicitly state that this story does not represent the actual mafia. Organized crime is an issue that still affects and kills people and I am trying to not romanticise organized crime.**  
>  I trust you, my reader, to keep fiction and reality apart.
> 
>  
> 
> This is the sequel to my Story "Irish Problems"! Have fun reading!
> 
> The cover was done once more by Imadethedevildoit.tumblr.com!

  
Arm on the windowsill and head out of the window, his look fell onto the church right to him.  
  
Not that praying would save them now.  
  
“Dio mio, dio mio, _dio mio_ ” Michele tried to invoke a higher deity nonetheless while hurrying up and down behind Harry.  
  
“Should I close the window before you jump out of it?” The Irishman joked half-heartedly, the Sicilian now hurrying over to him and for a second, Harry was really afraid he’d just let himself fall over the windowsill.  
  
“Well, if I am honest … The ornament does look pretty stable actually …” he said with a cocked eyebrow, the look of panic in his eyes gone.  
  
Harry couldn’t believe it.  
  
“Yeah, what a great idea!” the Irish said. “We are just gonna climb out of the window of this hotel placed at one of Rome’s main tourist attractions – ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS MICHELE?! WE’D FALL AND BREAK OUR GODDAMN BONES!”  
  
“Oh god Frecky, not so loud” a moan came from the couch. “You’re breaking my head!”

When Michele’s eyes shifted to the couch with the second Irishman, he looked just as desperate as before while Harry gestured towards his friend:  
  
“Yes, great idea! I vote Charlie goes first because that alcohol corpse will just _ace_ that little parkour!”


	2. Dolce Vita

Harry lay on his stomach, hugging and pressing his face into a pillow as he heard the water patter next door.

As well as Michele whistling and singing under the shower which only made his heart jump and him hug his pillow tighter.

Three months had gone by since they first met for business and got almost killed two days in a row by his English archenemy, now he lay naked in the suite of a Five Star Hotel while his Sicilian boyfriend showered last night’s sweat off.

Not that they weren’t here for business. But it was the second day of their trip already and so far nobody had been kidnapped. Harry just prayed that it would stay that way when he heard the shower being turned off and turned his head towards the bathroom door.

“Oh bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao!” the other still sung quietly and Harry chuckled. The smile on his face vanished when the other stepped into the bedroom and Harry had to bite his lip.

“What’s so funny, bello?” Michele asked and ran his fingers through his wet hair, wearing nothing but a small, winning smile on his lips and a white towel around his hips. It was a beautiful contrast to the tanned skin, which had gotten lighter over the last month. It was still as golden as his eyes and Harry couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Off _his_ boyfriend.

“It’s nothing” he said. “You should sing more often in the shower.” Michele came closer, still a smile on the lips, as he carried on: “Or in general.”

“Does it sound that good?” he asked but Harry didn’t focus on his face anymore.

“It’d be a waste if you wouldn’t use a voice like yours for singing” he said, pulling his left arm out from underneath the pillow and reached for the hem of Michele’s towel.

He pulled himself to the edge of the bed now and the towel down to place a kiss at the start of curly, dark brown hair.

Michele made no move to keep the towel on so it slid to the floor after Harry had let go and the Sicilian hunkered down so that he could look the Irish in the eyes.

“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked, fringe still falling into his eyes as he ruffled through the other’s hair.

“Michele, you already asked that last night.”

“And I will ask you probably two more times today” he smiled and the other sighed:

“It felt very good, thank you. Seriously, it’s not the first time you shoved something up my arse.”

“Way too ruin the mood” Michele grinned and Harry threw his arms to the side, laughing:

“What mood, Michele? Were you going to shove your dick up my arse again?”

The Sicilian got up, towel in his hand, and slapped the other on the chest, Harry throwing his arms up cackling: “Dear lord, Harry!”

The other kept laughing when Michele disappeared into the bathroom again: “You better get your ass off that bed and yourself ready. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

“Hmm” Harry buzzed out absentmindedly, his look once more focused on Michele’s body below the belt.

 _What a nice bum and it’s all mine_ , he thought while the other went out of his field of vision and carried on: “I am also sure we don’t want to let the other’s wait with breakfast.”

Turning on his back, the Irish replied: “Yeah, the old man can get really grumpy when he gets somewhere and half of the food is already gone.”

He heard Michele laugh and the grin spread further on his face before the blow dryer drowned out everything else.

He lay there, just staring at the ceiling for the next minute, thoughts running through his head, thoughts of last night, thoughts regarding their bodyguards, but nothing of actual importance.

Except for one.

_Why exactly are we here?_

He left the finely frescoed ceiling – the highlight of this suite, at least it was praised as one by the hotel – alone and sat up, pulling a face when he turned to the side and put his feet onto the floor.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he whinged: “Micheeele…”

The other turned the blow dryer off and Harry had to snort. The wavy brown hair was one fluffy, frilly mess.

“What’s it, bello?” he said. While Harry walked over to him, he had looked back into the mirror and grabbed a hairbrush. But before he could start working on his hair, the Irish hugged him from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“My arse hurts a wee bit when I walk” he muttered and Michele sighed, looking worried into the mirror and putting the brush down. Stroking the other’s hair, he asked:

“Really?”

“Mhm …” Harry sighed into the touch, putting his head on Michele’s shoulder and caressing his stomach with his thumb. “But really just a wee bit.”

“I am still terrible sorry, it shouldn’t hurt at all” Michele gave back and Harry pressed small kisses to his shoulder before he withdrew and walked over to the bathtub:

“Don’t worry, it just nips a little. It’ll be okay by tonight, I swear.”

“I hope you’re right” Michele gave back, not sounding any less worried than before.

“Michele, don’t worry your damn arse off over mine” Harry grinned while stepping into the bathtub: “That thing here is a whirl pool, too, right?”

“A real Jacuzzi, too” Michele said with a smirk and Harry cackled, figuring out how to turn the shower head on:

“Things the world doesn’t need … We should try it out tonight.”

“Ah, wonderful idea! I could also order a bottle of champagne to the room … Yes, it’d be a perfect way to celebrate today’s coup!”

“As long as it’s gonna be a coup” Harry gave back, running his hands through his hair as the water ran down on him. He had to repeat his words louder due to the water’s noise.

“What could go wrong?” Michele simply replied, already grabbing the blow dryer again but Harry didn’t plan on ending the conversation yet:

“Well, I don’t know because I have no other information than that you are going to steal a painting from another Boss you don’t like.”

“It’s two, actually – “

“Yeah, yeah.”

“ – but I only am at loggerheads with one of them, yes. Or more precise – the younger one of the Vargas Brothers is annoying while the older one is a goddamn pain in the ass.”

“Totally unbiased info, I see” Harry said and now it was Michele’s turn to chuckle.

“Do not worry” he said, running his hands through his hair. “All you need to know is that we like each other as much as you and Arthur and all you need to do is being my outpost.”

“Yeah, about that … could you tell me what exactly you mean with outpost?”

“We will sneak in somewhere and you three just make sure that we can leave just as unnoticed as we went in” Michele carried on unwaveringly and turned the blow dryer on.

As Harry got out of the shower, rubbing his hair and himself dry, Michele had disappeared. Still rubbing the orange mess on his head, he went back to the bedroom:

“Michele?”

“Sí tresoro?” came out of the walk in closet and Harry sighed.

“And that is all you need us to do?”

“I promised to not drag you into anything and I will give you details later – “

Michele said, stepping out of the closet. His hair was tied into a small ponytail, the black suit trousers and olive brown shirt on him made Harry once more swoon.

But as the Sicilian looked at him, he had to stop with putting the black tie on and broke into a laughing fit that did not fit his dapper look at all.

“What?!” Harry asked genuinely confused but Michele only fanned his face, breaking into another laugh whenever he looked at him to answer.

Harry was glaring at him by the time he had calmed down:

“Y- Your hair! You look like you put your finger into a wall socket!”

He had to chuckle again and Harry only sighed done, turning around:

“Well then I better brush it before you laugh yourself to death.”

“D-Do that” the other snickered, trying to tie the tie with his still shaking fingers.

Just after Harry had tamed his hair and he wanted to slip into the closet himself to put his clothes on, his phone rang.

He frowned as he saw the caller ID, but took it from the small coffee table with him into the closet:

“Yes?”

“Where are you, it’s half past 8” the older man on the other end buzzed out and Harry had to grin while he put his boxer briefs on:

“And? Don’t be so impatient old man, they serve breakfast for the next two hours.”

“And they are already open since half past six, so what’s taking you so long?”

He heard another voice in the background and knew to whom it belonged. After Paddy’s heavy sigh he didn’t even want to know what Charlie had said.

“We are almost ready, no worries, you’ll get your breakfast.” Harry answered. “Are you already downstairs?”

“Me and Charlie yes, I have no idea where the twins are.”

“Eh, Michele will see after them, I guess. See you later then.”

“Stop dawdling, you two” were Paddy’s last words and Harry frowned at his phone with a smile before putting it in the back pockets of the trousers he had just put on.

“The others are waiting?” Michele asked when Harry stepped out of the closet, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt.

“Paddy and Charlie are, no idea about the twins. At least they are not with them.”

The Sicilian sighed.

“We can look after them when we go downstairs.” He smiled at Harry: “Are you ready, bello?”

“Always” Harry answered grinning, walking over to the other. He gave him a kiss and golden eyes looked happily into emerald ones:

“What a promising morning for a hopefully promising day.”  
  


* * *

 

“I have to say, I really like this hotel” Paddy said and Michele laughed, putting one hand around Harry’s shoulder and pulled him close.

“Well, good to know I pleased everyone with my choice.”

While Michele looked down on Harry’s plate, asking “How many more fried potatoes do you plan on eating, bello?” and getting “Depends; How many more fried potatoes does the kitchen staff plan on making?” in return, Paddy looked after the rest.

Charlie was sitting beside him, more occupied with what was across him than on his plate: The twins.

“Didn’t sleep that well, eh?” the younger Irishman commented and the eyes of the two shot at him – glaring.

“You are in a good mood” Marco snarled.

“Aren’t you, Higgins?” Lorenzo grumbled and Charlie shrugged his shoulders, still smiling:

“Maybe. Even though your faces are enough for four people to have a shitty morning.”

Their glare only intensified when Michele spoke up:

“That is what they get for being out this late.”

The twins rolled their eyes while Charlie cocked an eyebrow:

“Where have you been?”

“What do you care?” Lorenzo told him off while Marco just rubbed his eye:

“None of your business, but at the Spanish steps.”

“Weren’t all those exclusive shops close to the steps?” Charlie carried on and Lorenzo looked as if he wanted to leap over the table and smash the Irish’s face into his plate:

“What about ‘Stop asking’ don’t you get?”

“Yeah, it was” was Marco’s calmer response. “Why are you so damn talkative even now?”

“Because he got more than four hours of sleep” was Michele’s laconic comment and Paddy chuckled while Charlie answered:

“Well yeah, I better stop asking you, Lorenzo, because I am not really eager to experience Death by butter knife – “

“Well, every hotel needs some good murder stories” Harry piped in and Charlie looked at him with a pout:

“Yeah great Frecky, and then more people die until one day a psychic dude steps in and they dig deeper into the hotel’s history and find out that great looking ghost bloke died through a butter knife. And then, I swear I am gonna die a second time through embarrassment.”

“The hotel’s open all year, it is very unlikely that anybody will have the chance to dig up old papers. And they’d die first through second-hand embarrassment because mate, how lame is it to die through a butter knife.”

“I think it’d be a nice end for you” Lorenzo said, earning a hit with the elbow from Michele and a grin with a nod of approval from his brother.

Charlie pouted again for a reply, sighing heavily through his nose before he turned to Marco with a smile:

“Were the shops still open when you were there yesterday?”

“No, it was pretty late yesterday, there weren’t many people up anymore, anyways.”

“And yet you managed to find someone who kept you there for hours” Michele said and both twins shot him another glare.

Lorenzo: “They were really nice people, yeah?”

Marco: “If you’d know what they had to tell!”

“ _I_ told you yesterday that we got work to do today” Michele gave back and they rolled their eyes:

“It was so stressful the last days” Marco said.

“So you can’t blame us for wanting a bit time to be alone and have fun!”

“I do have to say that they have a point there” Harry said, standing up to fill his plate up once more.

“Does anybody here take the job seriously?” Michele almost hissed, eyes on his leaving boyfriend while the twins looked deadly offended at him:

“We take the job seriously!”

Lorenzo: “You act as if we’d just betrayed you!”

Marco: “We are fine, not even tired anymore!”

“Besides, we’re 20!”

“Not 2!”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine” Michele gave in hurriedly, looking around. “I am sorry but you know much I hate it when something goes wrong on _those_ missions. You wouldn’t like them to laugh at you and worse, would you?”

“Of course not!” Lorenzo said.

“But we’re gonna have the last laugh” Marco backed him.

Michele smiled at them: “That’s what I want to hear. It’d would have still worried me less if you had postponed your little trip to today.”

“I actually wanted to go back there when the shops are open, if I am honest” Marco said and now Charlie piped up, interrupting the conversation that had been in Italian since Lorenzo had answered Michele’s first question:

“I’d love to tag along if you don’t mind my company.”

“If you insist” he gave back with a bored look but the Irish continued to smile:

“I am not insisting, I’d simply love to come with you. Going to such brands with another fashion enthusiast is simply a joy.”

“Am I the only one who senses all this lovey-dovey air or did I miss the key piece to know what’s really going on” Harry whispered to Michele as he came back, who chuckled:

“Ah, I think that’s just _amore_ ” he whispered back.

“I hate to interrupt this fun atmosphere, I truly do” Paddy spoke up. “But it’s just a little question anyways – How exactly does our plan for today look like?”

“First off – We are going to steal a little something from someone who had it coming. Second – We enjoy our lives” Michele explained and Paddy looked at him:

“And this means in detail? Because we all know this is where the devil hides.”

“Do not worry, I’ll clear everything up once we’re on the way. There is not much you need to know, anyways.”

“Then when we are going?”

“I assume that we all want to finish breakfast first and then …”

Michele pulled his phone out of his pocket, shaking it a little: “I only need a little, important information and we’ll be on our way.”

“And we are _surely_ not going by car?” Charlie chased it up and Michele turned to him:

“Don’t question my well-thought out plan, Charlie.”

“I am just mentioning that my car is still here, just in case” Charlie muttered, shoving around what was on his plate once more.

“It’s not like we fit all into your car, too, Charlie” Paddy said and the younger one rolled his eyes:

“Yeah, I know old man, to fit you solely in it we’d need to put a hole in the roof.”

“I was simply mentioning it” Paddy replied when Lorenzo leant in to Michele:

“Yeah, about that plan again … Do you really think it’s that great of an idea?”

“It’s not that great, it’s perfect. Nobody will suspect us coming that way nor suspect us going that way” he said with an undeterred smile and the twins shared an unhappy look.

Marco: “Yes of course, but”

Lorenzo: “This country’s public transportation.”

“Aww, come on, it’s never THAT bad in the buses to the outer districts. You’ll see, everything will play out just fine!” Michele said carefree.

“Well yeah but how are we gonna get to the buses to the outer districts?” Marco asked.

“Damn right, with one right under our noses” Lorenzo answered.

“And where are we?” Marco asked once more, Michele only looking at them with a frown and a pout.

“Exactly, in the middle of Rome at one of its tourist spots!” Lorenzo concluded.

“We can take the metro first, it’s rarely THAT crowded, especially not if we wait a little” Michele said in a rather lousy attempt to appease them when his phone vibrated.

After checking it, he turned to the twins with an annoyed smile: “We’re gonna take the crowded metro” he said before addressing the rest, speaking English: “Signore, finish your breakfast, we’ve got work to do.”

Paddy’s head jerked upwards, disappointment written into his face:

“Already? I ate nothing.”

“Old man, that’s the second the plate filled to the brim you had.”

“I just said I had nothing!”  
  


* * *

 

The heels of her shoes banged on the hard floor, every step resounding loudly in the mostly empty halls. From afar, her steps sounded determined like everyone would have expected it from a woman of the executive suite, but if you'd saw her, you'd reassess.

Gabriella Acerbi had a smile as wide as her face, the high brown ponytail and the wavy streaks of her fringe swinging to and fro as she hurried down the corridor. So fast that the two men following her could hardly keep step with her, even though Fabio Bellini made really big steps. Of course the tall, bald man with the piercing grey eyes did.

Their Boss Lovino Vargas however, had to step his already swift pace up a notch to follow his right hand. The men behind her talked but Gabriella was too excited to listen, hand cramping around the bottom of the case she carried under her arm. Despite her tempo, she made sure that the case kept still.

It would have killed her if she'd damage its insides, accidentally or not.

"Gabriella, easy! It's not a time bomb, you'll have all the time in the world!" Lovino called with an amused smile and she simply looked over her shoulder:

"But I feel like I've got one inside me, Signore Vargas! I am bursting with anticipation!"

She turned her head around again, but still had seen the Roman laugh and the smile she had painted on her Milanese colleague.

She turned into another corridor of the huge building, a smaller one than before, where no windows lit her way anymore.

Her designation was a door in the middle of the corridor. It stood out from the rest.

Made out of stainless steel just like its frame, it only had one metal handle but no keyhole.

Beside it was a number pad and Gabriella put her free arm up, petite fingers pressing four keys but then stopping, hovering only a few centimetres over it.

“It’s 4568 today, if you are looking for that” Fabio helped her out with a smile and she grinned at him:

“Thank you.”

The new code was easily put in and the heavy, mechanic sound from bolts slipping back confirmed the successful input.

The Venetian woman waited a few seconds, taking a deep breath before she put the handle down and leant with all her weight forward.

The door dragged slowly over the floor and the air that hit them was slightly colder than in the rest of the building, but its smell was surely unique.

It was as if you had stepped into a museum; everything reeked of old wood and dry oil colours; the pungent smell they once had emitted when they had been still in their painters’ cups having long faded since they had met the canvas.

Fabio shut the door behind him, Gabriella already walking to a table in the middle of the room.

On one side hung frames, bordered by bigger metal frames, one big metal frame with a collection of wooden ones after another.

On the one opposite to it were paintings; tons of paintings. A few of them abstract, works of younger painters, clearly, but most of them were old, dark pictures painted with oil and the goal in mind to achieve perfection.

And the painting, Gabriella got out of the case after she put on gloves, was another one of them.

Laying it on the table, covered in a velvet-like blanket, she took a step back to take a look at it.

It was small, square and maybe 30 to 30 centimetres big, bordered by a wooden frame with a few simple ornaments in the corners.

On the canvas were a man and a boy. The man wore a red robe and an overcoat around his shoulders, a golden, white and blue pattern on it. The cap that covered his ears was red as well and had a blunt tip. The young boy on his knees wore a simple toga in yellow. Even for being a toddler, he looked almost as stern as the man holding him.

“Well, they don’t really seem to be happy with that disposition” Lovino commented, looking over Gabriella’s shoulder; she turned to him with a smile that was going beyond her face, hands clenched into fists and slightly shaking in front of her face.

She couldn’t hold a small squeal back and Lovino chuckled, eyes clenched shut like his lips to not laugh into her face.

As he turned away, her smile faded but it was still present with the look of relief:

“Il doxe! We have a painting by an unknown Venetian genius with eventually another Venetian genius on it! One a painter, one a leader!”

“Indeed, indeed Rella” Lovino gave back and leant down over the picture like her.

“Look how fine the lines are!” she said. “And the way light and shadow are painted! I’d need a magnifier, better workplace, too, to see if it was the painter’s exact plan or if time also had its finger in the pie …But oh, it looks skilled! And the way clothing and hair are painted …”

She turned to Lovino: “Are you sure we don’t know the artist, Signore Vargas? He can’t be unknown! He shouldn’t be!”

Her eyes glowed as she spoke about the magnificent talent of somebody who would never hear her praise in person. Only if he was an angel and now curiously watching the three Italians inspecting his painting.

Lovino shook his head: “No, nothing but that he was a venetian renaissance painter around 1550.”

She turned around, leaning in closer to the painting again: “Maybe I could find out. I’d … I would only need better knowledge … like a trained expert … and more time …”

The smile on her face had a sad undertone, just like her voice had a resigned one:

“It is to be honest a disgrace that we keep it locked away here and don’t share it with the world.”

Lovino put a hand on her shoulder, pulling the other of his suit pocket:

“One day, Gabriella, one day, we surely will. And that nameless genius will finally get the respect he deserves.” He grinned, eyes on the painting: “He was surely worth his money already.”

Her face lightened up a bit, putting her eyes back on the painting as well:

“Hopefully.”

It was quiet for a while, all three of them only looking at the canvas when Gabriella, now with a neutral look, ran her fingers over the frame. Only imaginary, of course – the fine index finger hovered over it, tracing the line in the middle of it to the curls that connected the lines of one side with the one of the next.

“I would love to get it out of there myself” she said. “But if I would damage even just a little part, I’d never forgive myself for it.”

She crossed her arms, the gloved hands pressed against each upper arm.

A small, whirring sound filled the silence, only for a few seconds but Lovino looked to the door:

“I think the room wants us to leave. We all know how sensitive it is.”

“Just one more minute, Signore Vargas” Gabriella said, turning to him with a smile: “It knows me, I am sure I can handle it fine.”

“I am staying with her” Fabio also spoke up and Lovino looked at his bodyguards:

“Well then. I’ll see you in a minute in the office.”

“Of course, Signore Vargas” they responded in unison, Gabriella’s light and Fabio’s deep voice, both a pleasant sound.

As the door shut behind their boss, both of them paid attention to the painting again.

“The Doge of Venice … “ she whispered, the smile on her face faint.

“It feels a bit like home to you, doesn’t it?” Fabio asked and she looked up to him.

And nobody could guess what desperate thoughts raged behind the hazel eyes.

“Maybe I should show it to Dolco” she said and Fabio put a hand on her shoulder, a genuine and comforting smile on his lips:

“I am sure he will be interested. He will surely appreciate it that you want to share it with him.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she nodded and smiled.

It didn’t reach the hazel eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doge of Venice ( _Doxe_ in Venetian) was the leader of the Republic of Venice from the midage to the 18th century.


	3. Bella Italia

Sophie liked saturdays.  
  
She loved to wake up in her caravan, wrapped up in several blankets while the birds chirped outside and the sheep bleated in their stable, eagerly awaiting to get on the field.  
  
And she also liked to wake up in her house in her comfy, big bed while outside Dublin woke up as well.

Or was already busy because she slept in like today. Like she did on a lot of weekends.

Grumbling, she rolled around from side to side in her bed, trying to fall asleep again, but after tossing and turning she saw that it wouldn’t help and instead turned to her alarm clock, eye widening.

09:13 spelled the red letters.

Waaay too early for a saturday morning.

“Daaarn it” she said and sat up, rubbing her eyes before looking around.

Everything as usual; who should have changed something anyways when she was alone?

Heaving herself out of bed and steadying herself before she took a few wonky steps, she made it out of her room and then down the corridor, passing the bathroom and Harry’s room.

No noise out of this room either.

He hadn’t been home since Thursday and as stupid as it was, she already missed him terribly.

_“I’ll be back home on Monday, no worries, it is just a little … half work, half vacation!”_

“Yeah, go on fucking vacation in Italy with your ‘business partner’ and leave me alone at home in nasty, cold Dublin” she muttered, carefully plummeting down the stairs, the slap of naked feet on wood a satisfying sound.

“Stiiicky, sticky sticky feet you got there, Sophie” she chuckled, her first stop being the kitchen.

Only to turn around and go to the bathroom after she opened the fridge.

After she met those needs and put the streak behind her again, she started going through the fridge and found cold, half burnt pancake she made yesterday. Nothing a ton of bacon or jam wouldn’t be able to fix.

And with the finished Installation she had decided to call “How to run out of bacon and jam with just 6 pancakes” she grabbed one and moved, quietly humming, to the living room, placing the plate on the couch table and sitting down on the couch, looking for the TV remote but instead spotted her phone.

“Right” she said while remembering last night. While she had watched old seasons of Doctor Who, she had started charging her phone and later had forgot it when she had woken up again and had went upstairs to finally go to sleep.

When she picked it up, a missed call from Harry a few minutes ago greeted her.

“Uh, dammit” she said, nervously chewing on her lower lip. Of course, Harry had promised her again to call her each day and she shouldn’t worry about a routine call, but anything could have happened as well.

But then he would have tried it again.

Or maybe he had been in a risky situation or still was and it was his last call.

The phone vibrated in her hand and it said “Eejit” in the upper corner as well as it showed Harry pulling a funny face.

“Harry?”

“Hey Soph!” he said, then quieter to someone else: “See? Told you I have reception here.”

She believed to hear somebody answer, a dark, unknown voice but it was hard to tell; there was the loud noise of many more people talking in the background.

Harry spoke louder as well when she got up: “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. What about you?”

“I couldn’t feel any better, thank you” he said with a grin in his voice when she heard the phone being moved around and Charlie’s voice had its turn now:

“His arse hurts and he can’t stop complaining.”

A loud “CHARLES!” came out of the background and Soph held the phone at arm length, giving it an unsympathetic look.

Bringing it back to her ear, she said: “Charlie, too much information.”

“It’s me but I’ll tell him, you can be sure of that” Harry gave back, slightly panting. “Everything still alright back home?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. How’s Rome?”

“Wet and windy but oh well, we spend a good deal of time inside anyways. And we’ll going to enter the metro anytime by now, I will call you later.”

“Yeah, sure, have fun” she said. While fondling with a broken necklace she had left on the tallboy in the living room. “Bring me a souvenir when you come back.”

“You to – A souvenir?” he asked confused.

She giggled: “A souvenir! You are always going places and I have to rot at home, at least bring me something!”

“Soph, I’m – a souvenir. As you want brat.”

“I hope you will, tosser.”

“Hear you later.”

“Bye.”

With still an amused smile on her lips, she put the phone down on the commode and took a look around the room.

The top of the fireplace was neat and tidy, every photo free of dust.

It was a lovely day to watch another entire season of Doctor Who, but as she made herself comfortable on the couch, her thoughts wandered back to her brother, though.

_Who was that voice? His ‘business partner’._

She didn’t know herself why she used that word. Harry had said himself that the man he had met was a business partner, yes, but also his boyfriend for two months by now.

“Great, my brother had a boyfriend sooner than me” she said, throwing her head back with a groan. And deciding to roll her pancake up to eat it like this.

She later also decided it was a bad idea when she choked on a piece of it. Staring down on the half chewed pancake with bacon she had coughed out, she raised an eyebrow.

“Ladylike.”

With a sigh she shoved it back in regardless. Who was she to waste food?

When she went to the kitchen to get another one, she noticed her reflection in the fridge and pulled a face.

“Well, actually no wonder I haven’t a boyfriend nor a girlfriend” she sighed, trying to flatten the tiny streaks of hair that stuck out. She had slept with her hair still in a ponytail and would probably not wash her hair or comb it until Monday.

Monday.

Class Party.

Her school was a renowned one within the county, maybe even the entire city. And it had the (maybe bad) habit that the students were really focused on solidarity within class, so every now and then, someone would come up with a class party.

Sophie did like her class, even though they all were younger than her due to her repeating one a few years ago, but sometimes she didn’t felt like she fit in.

Of course, she had just as much money as them. And they all had expensive hobbies, but no one something as weird as caring for a flock of sheep.

And she knew quite a lot who knew what they wanted to do after school, most of them going to some university. But everyone gave her questioning looks when she said she wanted to become a shepherd.

She had friends at her school. She wasn’t the outcast weirdo. And she would never deny that she was well off.

But she stood out, though, and the only thing that helped her through was that her brother had felt similar.

_“Yeah, it’s alright if you feel like the secret loser. I mean, half of the teachers knew dad and expected similar. But unlike dad … I wasn’t made for pulling myself together like that. And if you’re outstanding as well, that’s fine. You’re gonna survive it, I promise.”_

Something around her heart constringed that it made her grab and claw at her jumper.

She would pray that her brother come home safely, she would pray for all of them. Maybe it’d help.

“It at least makes me feel better” she muttered while picking up another pancake and hurrying back into the living room.  
  


* * *

 

At first Lorenzo had been upset when the giant of an Irish had pressed his back against the side of his seat to make space inside of the bus they were in, but he soon discovered that the broad back was perfect to lean onto for a nap.

Paddy didn’t seem to mind either and stood as still as possible after only having paid one short look over his shoulder.

As the twins didn’t listen anymore, Michele in the row before them started to explain what to do for the Irishmen surrounding him – Harry sat beside him, Charlie stood to his other side.

“So, the plan now is that we get out here” Michele said, pointing on one station on the map on his knees. “And then we cross the street and wait a little for the next bus to take us here” his finger drew a huge curve: “Even though their HQ is at some point here.” With that he pointed on a place that was definitely closer to their first station. “It means we have to walk a little but it is definitely safer than coming from the front. Besides, there is a hill here” he pointed to another point close to where he had just named the HQ,” on which you will play outpost. You can perfectly oversee the entire building and especially the spot where we – “

Enthusiastically he had turned around, but his friendly expression dropped when he saw the twins sleeping, Marco leaning his head against his brother’s shoulder while tightly clutching at the case on his lap. Lorenzo had crossed his arms, head resting against Paddy’s back, who now looked unimpressed to Michele:

“It’s better if they sleep here now than being tired later.”

“They shouldn’t be tired at all” Michele said displeased, a frown on his face.

“Don’t they look adorable?” was Charlie’s comment about it and Harry groaned, Michele pouted and Paddy cocked an eyebrow.

“Charlie, go and be in love somewhere else” Harry said but Charlie leant in to them, just a few, almost unnoticeable centimetres:

“I can’t help it …”

“Pull yourself together, Higgins” Michele said and straightened himself up, pushing the other away only by letting the space between them shrink. “I am not against your feelings, but you can give it another try with Marco once this is over.”

“Eyes on the prize lad” Paddy said and Charlie laughed while Michele started over again:

“You’ll see a huge back door, it’s the, well, ‘main’ delivery entrance. We will sneak in there and you only have to make sure nobody’s around when we go in and especially when we go out again.”

“And that’s it?” Harry asked and Michele leant in to him and Harry was prone to expect a kiss. Not that it would happen; the farthest the two had ever went in Public were small pecks initiated by Harry.

Except for one time when they had been at a café and had start talking about movies and novels, ending up with the topic detectives; Harry had grabbed the newspaper from the table, for the sake of the old ‘the newspaper with holes’ trope, but once he and Michele had hidden behind it, the Sicilian had grabbed his chin and had pressed a kiss to his lips.

It was as cheesy as the newspaper trope itself.

“Yes, that is it. Don’t be so disappointed – we are on a mission and you are involved but not on the frontlines.”

“It feels a bit like we are your temporary workers” Paddy said and Michele turned to him, still smiling – even though the grass green eyes gave the calm face something hard and furtive:

“I know you feel treated unfairly and like being underestimated but Signori, what role would you let us play in a mission of yours at this point?”

The older man leant his head back, his jawline clearly moving before Harry shrugged his shoulders:

“Fair point.”

“Definitely fair point” Charlie nodded. “How long is this going to take?”

“Hopefully not too long. Half an hour, maximum” the Sicilian replied, pushing the map into his pockets.

“You can see how much closer we’re getting to our goal by how much worse the streets out here are” he added just as easy-going after a Charlie had almost fallen into his lap and the twins had woken up through the shake – not least because Paddy had also involuntarily leant back.

“But luckily, the farther away the busses go, the emptier they are usually at this time.”

“So we don’t have to relive the nightmare that was the metro this morning?” Harry asked. “That thing felt like a sardine tin, really, there comes another metro every few minutes, why not take this one instead?”

“Because we and the Italians would rather become one with the bus or metro wall than wait” Marco explained before coughing and his brother carried on:

“Why waste time at a bus station when you can take a nap at work instead?”

“Like you two?” Michele asked back but before they could reply, Harry did:

“We’re simply at the bus, not at work.”

“See?” both of them meant to Michele who only turned around in a huff and crossed his arms:

“Why do you all betray me like this today?”

The twins rolled their eyes while Harry chuckled: “Nobody’s betraying you here.”

“Oh yes, you do and you will be punished for it. Awfully punished, you especially, Harry.” Michele’s voice had turned into a purr during the last sentence and had leant in even closer to Harry, arm around his shoulder.

“Oh no, then I think I’ll have to clench my teeth and take it” Harry whispered back but the moment was interrupted:

“Yeah, tell me to be in love somewhere else but you’re just being over the top nasty like this, right here, right now, in the midst of pu – “ Charlie started to lecture them but Michele pushed him away again, this time with gently putting his hand on the Irish’s chest:

“We are already whispering as quiet as possible. If you don’t want to hear it, don’t eavesdrop, Charlie.”

“I hope you didn’t do this this morning in the metro or else whoever was lucky enough to being close enough to you is now grossed out for the rest of the day” Charlie gave back grinning when Lorenzo tapped on Michele’s shoulder:

“Next station, Michele.”

“Sí! Signore, the next station is ours!”

“What’s actually in that case?” Charlie asked while they went uphill – after they had gotten off the bus they only needed to cross the pedestrian bridge to reach to the next station.

“The key for a successful mission” Marco grinned and Charlie pouted:

“That means exactly?”

“Curiosity killed the cat” Lorenzo said, passing him. “And its content is not satisfactory enough to bring it back to life, trust me.”

“It’s a fake painting” Paddy said and the twins looked offended at the older man, who only grinned:

“I took a guess. The next one would have been that it’s equipment.”

“I would have said equipment because have you noticed how careful they have been with the case?” Harry said, walking behind them with Michele.

That they didn’t hold hands made the picture seem almost odd; the others were more than used to them being a full fleshed out couple.

“But it’s the counterfeit and that is way more important than equipment” Michele said. “Because _everything_ about this shall go unnoticed. And then, sometime later, I am going to send the Vargas a nice picture and ask if they aren’t missing something. Because, if you look closely enough, you’ll see it’s fake. But only if you look close enough.”

“And all this trouble for a prank?” Paddy asked. “You must really have fun with taking the piss out of each other, huh?”

“Why not?” the twins asked and turned around, both of them grinning while they stepped backwards; it looked as easy as walking normally.

“It’s just too much fun to tease them!” Marco said and his brother turned to him:

“Do you think Shortie will be there?”

“I hope so!” Marco replied while Charlie cocked an eyebrow:

“Shortie? Is this some secret admirer from the enemy’s side?”

“Not at all, Signore, but now that it has been mentioned, it would surely not be a bad idea to tell you a bit about the enemy’s leading parties. First off, there are the bodyguards of my archenemy Signore Lovino Vargas – Fabio Bellini from Milan and Gabriella Acerbi from Venice respectively.

“Fabio is easily to spot – a tall, strong, bald man with piercing grey eyes.”

“What do you want us to do for identifying, don’t be sure until you see the white in their eyes?” Harry asked while Charlie said:

“If you ask me, most bald men look extremely similar.”

“I don’t have photos at hand and I am doing my best to describe them, okay?” Michele sighed. “Also, be careful with him. He is as professional as he looks. Well, except when it comes to cats. That … that is really weird.”

“A cat phobia?” Charlie asked confused but Michele smiled wryly:

“The opposite really. But even Mafiosi are just people aren’t they. Well, let’s move on to his partner in crime – Signorina Acerbi. Roughly a head smaller than the twins, long brown, wavy hair and hazel eyes, beautiful hazel eyes.” He sighed again, but this time dreamily: “She is beautiful, a true lady – and a woman on a mission. Just as professional as Bellini.”

“She’s really fierce!” the twins added, sounding just as high up in heaven as their big brother.

“So a tall, bald bloke and a little, pretty lady” Paddy said. “Should be easy to look out for.”

“But didn’t you mention that the Vargas are brothers?” Harry asked.

Michele grinned: “Oh, this Punch-and-Judy show.”  
  


* * *

 

It was still cold outside, even though down here no frost pattern graced the windows. And the clouds, which they had left just minutes ago, started to clear up.

But maybe it was also the group of three that lit the airport hall once they had stepped in. It was at least undeniable that they drew attention to them.

Not that everyone stared at them, but eventually one of the men had drawn the look on him – depending on what your type was, petite or buff? Small or average height? Curly hair or flat one? Didn’t matter, because once one of them caught your eye, you couldn’t help but notice the group as whole. Not that they were actually spectacularly outstanding. Good looks and fashion sense wasn’t outstanding at all.

“Are you wondering if you have anything to declare, Signore?” a woman, presumably from the airport staff, asked and Dolcetto Acerbi’s already annoyed look darkened the notch when he turned his face to her.

Irritated when he had to look up a tad, his head bobbed down – High Heels, of course – and back up, maybe even more upset.

“Do I look like I have something to declare?” he snapped at her before going back to look at his reflection on the metal wall, trying to get some more life into the flattened curls on his head.

“Then don’t block the entrance, Signore” she gave back sharply and he looked back at her – fingers still in the jaw-long, brown hair – and took a step to the side.

“Better?” he hissed at her while his colleague stood a few meters away by the conveyor belt, where suitcases circulated and people waited for theirs to show up.

Francesco Belfari looked at the cases and at the people looking for theirs, wondering which one would belong to whom of the many waiting. Some of the suitcases made him curious for their stories and even more for the one of their owner; it was because it looked brand new or worn down; covered in stickers or blank and neatly labelled.

As his eyes flicked over the room, they got stuck on the glass wall beside him. Not for what was going behind it, though – just for the Neapolitan with the messed up hair.

“Always with your heads in the clouds, no wonder your hair looks windswept” he chuckled to his reflection, carefully trying to get the small curls out of his face like the rest of his gelled back, almost black hair.

“Better … better just leave the playful look” he still said to himself, pulling a face when he only made it worse. Just as he gave up and flattened the hair he had just messed with, a squeal going through his area of the hall attracted his attention:

“There!”

As he turned, he saw a young girl, surely not older than 8 years, run around the conveyor belt, right over to him.

She stopped next to him, looking up with big eyes but fast being more interested with a suitcase almost her own body size. Grabbing the handle, she tried to pull it off the belt but rather got dragged with it.

Francesco already saw a couple making it over from the corner of his eye, yet grabbed the handle of the suitcase as well:

“Let me help you, Signorina.”

He lifted the heavy suitcase without effort, pulling it away when the girl let go, and put it down on the floor.

“Thank you” the girl said, shying away from the man when her parents came and he winked at her:

“The will is there and in a few years, strength like mine will be there, too.”

“Well, that would be quite a surprise” the father of the girl laughed, his daughter clinging to him but Francesco just smiled back:

“What’d be so surprising about a strong girls? The world is full of them.”

“Muscles like yours don’t suit a girl, Signore” the mother said with a smile and the Neapolitan crossed his arms, flexing the muscles beneath the brown leather jacket and white sweater:

“There is nothing suiting a woman more than being confident in herself and those ladies put a lot of hard work in their muscles.”

The woman laughed shortly, and sighed but he just carried on: “If that’s not great to look it, then I don’t know.”

He hunkered down, his light, water blue eyes looking straight into the big green ones of the girl: “Just wait, Signorina, soon enough that suitcase will quiver in fear when it sees you.”

She didn’t answer for a second but then giggled, pressing her face to her father’s side:

“Really?”

He smiled kindly and put his hands on his chest: “Hey, I used to be a little boy too, now look at me. Are you roman or here for vacation?”

“Vacation” both the girl and her father answered at the same time and Francesco smiled at her:

“Well then. Have fun and listen to your mamma and papa from now on, hm?” A bit quieter he added: “Except when you hear another ‘girls can’t’ or ‘girls shouldn’t’, because that’s a lie. Girls can do everything, got me?” She nodded and got up and gave the parents a smile as well: “Enjoy rome, it’s a beautiful city.”

After another thank you, they said good bye and Francesco still looked after them when they went down the hall, the father dragging the heavy suitcase behind him with one hand, holding his daughter’s with the other.

“What a little whirlwind!” Feliciano Vargas spoke up beside him. “She almost ran me over!”

Francesco turned to his boss with a laugh, the other man now giggling as well, stroking a streak of light auburn hair out of his face. The flight had flattened it as well but the curl low on the left side was still unaffected and it made Francesco once more wonder about this strange addition to the hairstyle.

“That lovely little whirlwind will hopefully shake this old city during her vacation” he said.

“I just wanted to ask about what you talked with her” Feliciano replied, shouldering the huge bag – as it immediately slid from his shoulder again.

“Ah, Feli, let me end your struggles, too!” Francesco said amused and enthusiastically. The roman giggled and, with a bashful grin, held it out to him with both hands:

“That’d be great.”

“Shouldn’t we get going now that we’ve got everything?” Dolcetto asked when he joined up with them, his own shoulder bag resting perfectly against his side. “I don’t wanna get old on this damn airport.”

“Easy, Dolco, life’s not a race” Francesco said smiling with a cocked eyebrow and earned a glare from the Venetian:

“I sweat like a pig in this sweater on the flight and if I can’t get out of it any time soon, I am gonna become really pissed.”

“I think we got everything!” Feliciano said, but then stared upwards and tilted his head:

“Or did we leave anything …”

“Feliciano” Dolcetto said and raised his arms: “If you forgot anything, it wasn’t on the flight but probably on Ludwig’s fucking bedside table.”

“What’s there to lose except your phone, wallet or sunglasses. And since you just put your hands on the things when I named them, we know they are there” Francesco smiled and the other returned it:

“Well then! Give me my bag, I have to look for my keys!”

Francesco handed it to him, trying his best not to laugh when Feliciano’s arm got dragged down once his bodyguard let go. He placed it on the floor, bending down to open and rummage around in it.

Whistling as he made the mess inside his bag bigger, Francesco pursed his lips once more when he had let his eyes wander around the room and had spotted a group of teenage girls.

It was undeniable they were giggling about and staring at Feliciano’s raised ass.

“Found it!” the Roman said after he had jerked upwards, blocking Francesco’s view on the girls, but he saw them laugh when Feliciano bent down once more to close his bag before handing it to Francesco, not questioning the big grin on his bodyguard’s face.

“I hope nobody stole my car” he said while heading towards the exit, Dolcetto behind him sighing:

“Who in this city would steal a fiat? Even the stupid scorpion doesn’t make it any more attractive to thieves.”

“Half of Rome knows your face and who would be cruel enough to steal the car of this city’s prettiest man? ” Francesco said and laughed with Feliciano as the eternal city had finally another one of her unlikely trios back.


	4. Family Business

They really weren’t that tired anymore, Michele decided as he hid behind some large box. He couldn’t see the twins but he neither did the man who just crossed the hall. As the Italian was whistling and didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, Michele did to the box in front of him. He wondered what was inside the unusually big rectangle and if it was something worthwhile, why Lovino had it and not he.

Then he said to himself that whatever it was, it couldn’t be a worth a straw if the Vargas clan had acquired while the twins were both more occupied with the man passing their hiding spots and through the door.

 _Why can’t this just be like in every bad spy series?_ Marco thought as he pressed the case to his chest, a thumping heart beneath. He sat on the floor and even though he should get up, his legs felt like jelly.

 _I really feel like knocking him out_ went through Lorenzo’s head, wanting to peek around the doorframe but too nervous to actually do it, afraid that the door would open and he’d stare somebody straight in the face.

And wanting to knock somebody out was an entirely different thing to actually having to do it.

“I really want to know what trash is inside this” Michele said and the twins almost had a heart attack when they looked over to him:

Not only did talk out loud, but he stood and looked down on his hiding spot, one hand rubbing his chin, the other on his waist.

“Mich – Are you nuts?!” they hissed and he cocked an eyebrow, looking at them amused:

“You are scared? Boys, we are all alone. The camera is out for another 20 seconds.”

“But people can’t be stopped for whatever time!” Marco still hissed, getting up from the floor.

“At least not from afar!” Lorenzo added as the door next to him opened with a loud creak and his heart dropped to his gut.

Someone made a few steps into the room and the twins felt like suffocating any second but their heavy breathing would have blown their position immediately.

 _Great, I’m barely in and the problems are already starting_ Michele thought, staring at the ceiling upset. His back hurt from the abrupt fall he had to make and he was sure his suit was dirty now.

 _How I glad I am that this thought doesn’t apply to last night_ his mind added and he pressed his lips together that it hurt not to chuckle.

The steps came closer and in horror, the twins stared at the man.

He looked around – but luckily not back – and rested on the long box Michele was hiding behind.

Michele wanted to scream, very badly, but he kept calm, like he always did. And he just wanted to scream because this was a stupid mistake to make; why should he be afraid of those airheads catching him.

Marco was very close to throw whatever what was close to him and run, just to distract the stupid guard from Michele’s position. He could run, he was fast enough, but his big brother wasn’t even on his feet –

“Ermete!” the voice of an older woman came from the door that Marco almost lost the case and Lorenzo was close to slipping down the wall. “We don’t got time for your folderol! It’s just a mouse or some idiot didn’t store something right and it fell down!”

The man looked backed to the door and the twins pressed themselves against the large doorframe, shuffling into its shadows and hoping they’d swallow them.

“But I really thought I heard voices …” the man replied, looking around quickly once more but leaving towards the exit after the woman had spoken up again:

“Yeah, I honestly don’t doubt that you are hearing voices! Now get back, we’ve got work to do!”

The moment the door fell shut, nothing happened.

Two seconds after it, three heavy sighs went through the room and after a few more seconds, in which Michele had fumbled with a little remote, the Mafioso heaved himself upwards with one arm on the box, his eyes going to the twins – who immediately put a finger on their lips.

He simply smiled apologetically and held 3 fingers up.

They nodded and turned around while he slowly sat on the box and spun around to get over it.

“Whoever that was, they sounded like – “Michele started but the twins ended the sentence in sync:

“An old married couple.”

They grinned as Michele pressed his lips together, putting something in the number pad next to the door: “Exactly.”

He waited one more second before opening the door and pressing two numbers and a red button on his remote.

Then he peeked out, looking to the right side and listening if he heard anything.

But a look around the door confirmed that nothing was to the left as well.

“Which way?” Lorenzo asked.

“Upstairs, right?” Marco said.

“Exactly, it’s somewhere above us” Michele whispered back quietly, eyes hopping around the corridor.

Open field. Now their fate was in Fortuna’s hands and Michele slightly doubted she was smiling at them this day.

But, surprisingly enough, on their first meters no one crossed their path. The main corridors were big and well-lit while most of the smaller ones looked like dead ends – not only in the figurative sense.

And whenever they passed one or another door, Marco clutched tighter at the case in his hands.

Sometimes people were talking behind it and Lorenzo’s arm twitched as he wanted to run it through his hair.

Even now and then, the sounds of computers or machines came through the doors, but Michele kept absolutely calm, hands behind his back.

As if the twins wouldn’t see him picking at his skin.

And suddenly, while they waited that the camera at the staircase went out, steps were coming closer and Michele quickly looked over his shoulder, just to share a panicked look with them.

The twins motioned to the metal stairs – there was no solid wall under them.

“They are see-through!” Michele hissed but took his heels as the steps were right behind the door, the three hurrying under it and hiding as good as possible between cardboard boxes, rolled-up cloths and tarpaulin.

Whoever it was, they would see them or had already and Michele was very careful with gnashing his teeth; that would only make noise and ruin even the last chance they had.

Luckily, digging his nails into his wrist was quiet.

But only seconds after the person had entered, somebody else called for them and that was the moment Michele pricked his ears:

“Hey Dolco, come on and at least say hello to the rest! Nothing else will run away, I promise!”

“So it was this tiny tot son of a bitch?” Marco quietly asked his brother, both of them having tried to get a sneak peek of the visitor.

“And wasn’t it this annoying idiot that called him?” Michele said and got up: “Let’s get going, we still have a minute to make it upstairs.”

He turned the small remote between his fingers and the twins quickly followed him when they hurried upstairs.

Michele pushed the door open, pressing something on his remote again when they heard a noise from the right hallway.

“You know, when you are getting old, you are really questioning if all this is worth it” Michele snarled when they once more turned heels, just hiding behind the corner when the footsteps had been the closest, now they receded, no echo resounding anymore. ”I bet this spring chicken didn’t have a hard time at all when he stole the statue this may. Next time I’ll prepare a damn Indiana Jones parkour for this bastard.”

“I’d find this much less stressing if it was an Indiana Jones parkour” Marco muttered and his brother nodded in agreement while Michele sighed, once more occupied with the remote:

“You know, I’d also find this much more fun if this would be as it is sold in movies – “

Someone came from the other end of the halls and the Sicilians froze.

The young woman in a suit came closer but didn’t even notice them. The only look she paid them was short and disinterested, not returning the smile Michele had given her.

After she had entered the staircase, Marco spoke up – his arms now cramping around the case again:

“What kind of double game are they playing here?”

“Maybe it was a business partner, newcomer, what do I know?” Michele replied. “All that matters is that she didn’t recognised our faces, now get going before the guy watching the cameras can.”   
  


* * *

 

“I can’t believe there is such a thing as too much Doctor Who” Sophie said, head hanging from the sofa’s edge, watching the events on the screen turned upside down.

‘Watching’. She really couldn’t get herself to care anymore what was happening.

Rubbing her eyes, she looked for the remote and then turned the TV off, yawning silence occupying the house again.

If she listened closely, though, she could hear the clocks in the house ticking.

_Just one more day, six hours, three minutes and 25 seconds until they come home, just one more day, six hours, three minutes and 23 seconds …_

Soph had no idea if the numbers in her head were right, all she knew was that the clocks sounded like a countdown making fun of her and her loneliness.

As she lifted her head with a groan, her eyes fell beyond the sofa’s backrest onto the fireplace.

With a curious – why she didn’t know – look, she heaved herself upwards and jumped over the backrest, pitter-pattering to the old memories and picking up a new one.

It was a small photo, taken with an old, analogue camera, framed by turquoise wood now. Showing her and her father on the pier and other people hurrying down in the background; he had hunkered down and one arm around her, both smiling and making the peace sign.

She had found it while she went through the photos with the other and at first it seemed like a perfect fit for the family picture frame.

But Sophie had objected that it’d be unfair if she and her dad both laughed, while on the other only Freya smiled kindly – Harry made a face as miserable as sin.

Since it had still been a nice picture though, they had put it on the fireplace anyways, alongside with the new family picture – on which Aaron pouted at the sun while Sophie happily gnawed on a biscuit and Freya smiled into the camera with a grumpy Harry on her lap.

And with a giggle, she sunk to the floor, the other photo still in her hand.

“I still need to find the pictures of you during your Irish Dance time” Charlie had said when the four of them had sat on the floor, having gone through albums and a lot of single photos in order to fulfil her dad’s wish.

“And I keep telling you, they are secured in the family vault, locked with a spell and a lock and guarded by vampires as well as magic-eating monsters” Harry had said, not even having lift his head to look at his friend.

“One day I’ll find this vault and will get to it without any problems” Charlie had given back and now both, Harry and Soph, had looked at him, Harry having cocked an eyebrow unimpressed:

“First of all, you show off wouldn’t get past the monsters – “, he had lifted his arm and had pointed at Charlie: “I see you opening your mouth but don’t you dare! We had this discussion!”

He had been shortly interrupted by Paddy, who had been looking as cool as you please through an album:

“You did several times and thanks to the first time I know pretty much everything about this book series without ever having read a single book of it.”

“Yeah and secondly, you wouldn’t dare to desecrate a family vault. And thirdly – you’re not a detective nor magician of genius.”

“And I keep saying that you really think it’d be ridiculously hard to get into your family’s vault. Even you’d be an old, important family of sorcerers, how hard can a damned lock and spell be?”

“Hard enough that nobody will ever see the embarrassment that was me in those clothes” Harry had replied when Charlie had smirked and leant forwards:

“I bet your boyfriend would looove to see you in those cute costumes.”

“Don’t you mean Ex-boyfriend then?” Soph had chuckled but Charlie had now leant in to her with the same grin:

“Oh sunshine, don’t you think you’d get away scot-free.”

She had gaped at him: “Don’t you dare!”

“He needs to know in what kind of family he has gotten into!” Charlie had laughed into her face as Harry had interrupted the two of them:

“Hey, he is not my boyfriend!”

“Not yet” Paddy had said mundane and having caught surprised looks at first before Charlie and Soph had started laughing and Harry ranting.

_“Oh come on, he’s your boyfriend officially now! Tell me **something** about him!”_

_“Yes, he is my boyfriend but he is also still my business partner and you know I’d never let you get this close to the frontline. One day, maybe. **Maybe.** ”_

_“One day, one day! In 20 years, if you are still together by then, or what?!”_

_“Exactly!”_

With a sullen look on the floor, she let photo sink, arms crossed over her knees, now resting her chin on them.

She did understand her brother’s intention and that they had only been together for very little time anyways, Mafioso aside.

But she had known her brother’s last girlfriends, known them for a long time and Harry had never kept them secret from her or their father or anyone. And suddenly, he had a new partner that he stubbornly kept to himself, come hell or high water. 

Soph could live with the job not being her business, but now her brother kept a part of his own private life secret and it pissed her off, reminded her of unpleasant times years ago when Aaron had told him about the family career.

She still hadn’t known a thing, but only had noticed how rude her brother had gotten to their father and Paddy. The time he had spent with making Sophie laugh had shrunk and shrunk, the time he had stayed out late with friends and locked himself in his room skyrocketed.

It had taken at least two years until he had been on good terms with Paddy again and had started to care for Sophie again, but the only change in the handling with Aaron had been that Harry had gotten colder and his father had tried less.

And Aaron’s answer when Soph had asked him?

“Just a delayed, intensive puberty phase. Boys need longer to grow up than girls, how happy I am though that my little girl isn’t yet so far! You stay carefree for a little longer, alright Sophie?”

What a hollow lie. What a hollow lie, making her stomach turn even so many years later.

But she still couldn’t be mad at the man on the photo, holding her as close and safe as she hold the frame, she couldn’t be as cold and rude and disappointed in him as Harry had been.

_Nothing but good of the dead._

She had heard that sentence ever so often. And surprisingly most of the time it was from her brother.

“ _Hey, it’s nobody’s fault that dad died, and besides, he’s still there for you, I am sure. Nothing but good of the dead.”_

_“I’ll tell you a thing now but please, Sophie, no matter what you’ll think afterwards please still remember – Nothing but good of the dead.”_

_“Hey, Soph, Soph, please remember what he was to you. Dad tried his best, okay? Nothing but good of the dead._

_You can be mad at me, okay? You can bloody hate me, god knows I deserve it more.”_

Tears running down her cheeks she hugged the photo, her whispers nothing more but a slurred sob as her chest jumped whenever she drew a hitched breath in.

The only noise in the house beside the clocks ticking.

_Tick tock, tick tock, 3 years, 11 months, one week, three days since dad died, tick tock, tick tock, 3 years, 11 months, one week, three days since we started hating ourselves, tick tock, tick tock …_   
  


* * *

The steps had echoed in those halls a hundred times by now, if you’d give it a bit more time, it’d be a thousand and with luck, one day, a million.

And with a lot of luck, the millionth step would still be a light hearted one, almost a hop.

Francesco hoped immensely that it’d be this as he followed him, easily keeping pace and having half a mind to hop with him through the corridors.

But the floating wasn’t Francesco’s. It was Feliciano’s own and the reasons Feliciano hurried like this were his own and the Neapolitan was too happy with the joy the Roman shed to take part in a thing that wasn't his.

Dolcetto acknowledged his boss' excitement with displeasure but didn't make work to show it. The only thing that was reflected in his face was disinterest and minor annoyance, resulting in a resting bitch face as always. But maybe today with a bigger chunk of the annoyance, annoyance over how the other two had cast their earlier observance as if it was nothing. People spying was _not_ nothing.

"You don't have to hurry like that, we’ll tell them soon enough" he said and Feliciano turned around, walking a little unstably backwards:

"Oh come on, Dolcetto! I bet the others are also already waiting for us! It's not a sin if I missed them!"

"But it's irritating" Dolcetto snarled quietly, throwing a death glare into Francesco's direction when the Neapolitan spoke up:

"Use your short legs to pick it up a notch, not to trip Feli's happiness."

"I heard you wanted me to use my legs to kick you in the junk, Franci?" He snarled back but Francesco only laughed while Feliciano, who had already turned around, simply smiled forcedly.

"Ah, Signore Vargas! Welcome back!" a young greeted them, having stepped out of a door in front of them.

"Signorina Pavone!" Feliciano said with a bright smile. "It's nice to see you!"

"Indeed it is!" Francesco said and she threw her head to the side, her fringe slightly shifting. "How has it been over the last days?"

"Oh, very well, Signore Belfari. Everything is just fine." She shortly turned her head to the corner and back to the men as she carried on: "We just got a new painting, a true masterpiece Signorina Acerbi said."

"The highlight is a painting?" Francesco said after having shared a look with Feliciano, while Dolcetto had leant in, something curious in his face now.

"Yeah, it's some ... well, it is an important Painter, I had no time yet to ask Signorina Acerbi any further information" she admitted, hiding her big mouth incredibly well.

"I think we're gonna ask her" Francesco said and Feliciano nodded, turning around:

"Yeah, she’ll surely love to let us in. And there’s nothing I love more than hearing her talk about art! She’s so studied in it, isn’t she?” he asked Pavone and the young woman stroked her fringe aside again, her lips pursed into a smile:

“She is, truly. And really someone to look up to, if you ask me as a young woman.”

Francesco smiled kindly as he heard it, Feliciano only leaning in closer to his subordinate:

“Oh yeah, that too! Ah, excuse me, I think I really want to see her and the rest now!”

It was hard to resist Feliciano’s charm. 

"I think I'll go look after the painting first" Dolcetto said, heading straight to stair case at the end of the hallway.

But while he was still standing in the door, Feliciano called for him.

“Hey Dolco, come on and at least say hello to the rest! Nothing else will run away, I promise!”

He turned his head, looking at the other two.

And wished they’d wipe those obnoxious fake smiles off their faces.

“Fine, let’s go” he said after closing the door behind him, and went ahead.

The sooner this was over, the better.

“And I am sure your sister can show you the painting and tell you more about it! Let’s ask her if she will, yeah?” Feliciano said with a smile after he caught up with the Venetian who only rolled his eyes.

“I am sure Gabriella would love to do it” Francesco said, a lot calmer than their boss and Dolcetto wished he had just went upstairs immediately when he had chance.

“I could go back and stare at it all day” Gabriella sighed meanwhile in the office. It was a lot sparser and less stylishly furnished than the official office of the Vargas Clan in their business building, but it still had some sort of dignity.

At least way more than the rest of the building – excluding the gallery.

“And then you’d do what?” Fabio asked, sitting beside her and she frowned up at him, tablet resting on her knees and pen in her hands.

“Well – excuse my sausages digits”, she giggled as he leant in closer to her, his arm already behind her backrest, and swiped the picture on her table away – back to the smaller one of the Doge painting. “But I mean, what’d keep you looking? What would you like to know from the painting?”

He resized the smaller picture but she poked his hand with the pen and then swiped back when his hand was gone:

“I’d like to know his signature, his handwriting. His way of drawing, you know? Then, maybe, I could find out more about him.” She tapped the back button of her browser a few times until the screen showed a collection of other paintings; now she circled a few with her pen: “Know where he got his inspiration from, maybe who taught him that. Just … a few more puzzle pieces of the big picture.”

“Sheez, you’re really enthusiastic about this, aren’t you?” Lovino commented from behind his desk. He didn’t look at them, his eyes focused on his laptop while he typed.

“Yes, Signore” Gabriella said with a bashful smile.

“Could you please be enthusiastic about typing up boring reports instead and take this burden from me then?” Lovino grumbled, but the look he shot the two was only mildly displeased before he turned back to the PC, keys rattling under his fingers.

“Somebody just kill me before I bore myself to death.”

And yet, the heart attack was uncalled for when the door got thrown open the next second and Lovino cringed, arms jolting up.

“Brother!” Feliciano said, being at his desk within a second and putting his hands on the table, Lovino staring at him with something between shock and upset in his face. “I’m back! Did you –“

Feliciano had now grabbed the upper side of the laptop screen and the rest of the sentence was gone with a squeal as the laptop closed and Feliciano laid onto the table with his upper body.

But still jolly, he looked up at him: “Did you miss me?”

The upset had now taken over the olive green eyes of the older brother, staring down at the younger one:

“Feliciano, what the fuck was this appearance.”

Feliciano lifted himself up with a pout: “Well, I missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah, missed you too” Lovino replied, opening the laptop again as the rest treaded in – and the scene carried on:

“Fabio! Love of my life!” Francesco said, stopping with a little jump and arms wide open, as Fabio grinned wanting to get up from his chair as the Neapolitan was already on his way over. Both now standing, they grabbed each other’s hand and pulled the other in a hug.

“Welcome back my beloved friend” Fabio chuckled half in his deep voice and gave him a pat to the back before they pulled away, Francesco putting his hands on the Milanese’s shoulder:

“No one feels like you, big boy. Glad to have you back in my arms.” Fabio grinned as the Neapolitan turned to Gabriella, his voice softer now: “Ah, and Gabriella, my Venus.”

“Hello Franci” she said with a faint smile, not complaining when he kissed her on the cheek and returning the favour.

“I’d hug you too, but you don’t seem like you want it” he said and she shrugged, but before she could answer, he had turned back to Fabio: “I could kiss Fabio, too, though.”

“Nobody’s stopping you” Gabriella grinned, giggling again as Francesco put his hands onto the other’s shoulders once more and littered his cheeks with kisses so that Fabio couldn’t help but laugh this time.

“Yeah, please don’t get the idea to do that with me, too” they heard Lovino and Francesco turned around. “Frankly, I have enough affection for now.”

“What’s that, brother?” Feliciano asked and got one arm, both draped over Lovino’s shoulders, up to point at the screen.

“I see” Francesco said amused. “But also a friendly Long time no see to you, Lovino.”

“It has been a week, my ass” Lovino snarled under his breath, looking at the other: “But Welcome back Francesco.”

 _What a fucking crazy business_ Dolcetto thought, only spectating it from the door frame.

“Oh, hey Dolcetto! Welcome back!”

_And I don’t wanna take part in it._

“Hello Gabriella” he replied to his sister, the smile on her face wasn’t shrinking.

“Hello Dolcetto” added Fabio and Lovino, separately before going back to their previous occupation.

Great. Why was he even he-

“Come in and close the door, don’t stand there so lost” Lovino said and Feliciano smiled at him: “Yeah, come in! Didn’t you want to ask your sister something?”

He closed the door but ignored Gabriella’s curious look, eyes still on his boss:

“I actually wanted to talk about something else instead. About those guys outside you two have forgotten so easily.”

Now he had the attention of everyone in the room and Lovino frowned at him:

“What?”

“We saw someone outside, it was actually pretty weird” Feliciano said instead, looking down and Lovino looked upwards now, before pushing his arms away with an angry yelp:

“Get in a reasonable position, I can’t work like this, dear lord, Feli!”

His brother took a step back and Lovino turned his chair without a friendlier expression on his face.

“So, we saw somebody. Three guys on the hill opposite, you know, the one that separates us from the next part. And they walked around a little when they saw us but didn’t go away.”

“And I really don’t think they are misguided tourists or something” Dolcetto added. “They looked … too out of place.”

“What do you mean by out of place?” Lovino asked but before Dolcetto could answer properly, Francesco stole the spotlight:

“They were no romans, I suspect they weren’t even Italian. And that one guy –“ he opened his arms again: “Yes, we’ve only seen them from afar, but I swear, you could make four Dolcos out of that one giant.”

“Shut your mouth, Franci” Dolcetto said, only getting madder when the Neapolitan grinned at him while Lovino looked back at his brother:

“Anything else?”

“Uh, for the looks? They seemed pretty fairskinned, especially one with real bright ginger hair, too. Really, no Italians, clearly.”

He leant in to his brother: “And not here on accident either, I think.”

Lovino frowned, eyes shifting from side to side before he turned around and grabbed his phone and punched one of the keys in.

“Signore Tivoli, would you be so nice and take a look outside? I think someone got too curious during their sightseeing tour through Rome.”


	5. Troubled Sea

“A souvenir, when the fuck should I get a souvenir?” Harry muttered as he stared through the binoculars, brows furrowed but not due to what he was seeing. “And what, too? This brat … “

“You are acting as if you are busy doing important stuff 24/7 and not Michele half of the time” Charlie said and Harry put the binoculars down to glare at him, the other only leaning in to them as the wind ruffled through Harry’s hair: “We all know the real reasons our rooms are on different levels, mate. The rooms aren’t sound-proof, are they?”

Instead of an answer, Harry’s glare just intensified before he put the binoculars up as well.

“Uh, I am trembling with fear, Cyclops” Charlie said after a short laugh.

“You look really damn ugly up so close, you know that?” Harry said and finally put the binoculars down: “Oh shit, never mind, that’s just your face in general.”

“Don’t hate me just cause you ain’t me” Charlie gave back with a grin and Harry shook his head:

“Oh don’t worry, I hate you for multiple other reasons, my friend.”

“You know Sophie” Paddy interrupted the two of them. “We can get her a shirt, for example. Something will catch your eyes for sure, lad.”

“Yeah, why not come with me and Marco today?” Charlie said and Harry gave him a confused smile before going back to focus on the backdoor.

“Aside from the fact that Soph would only go into the shops that you like to marvel at how shiny everything is, I am not going to ruin a date between the two of you.”

After a few seconds passed by – Harry already confused his friend didn’t answer – Charlie spoke up, sounding lost in thought:

“A first date at Armani would be pure perfection.”

Harry once more threw a confused look into the other’s direction.

“Pray tell me, I know you always only had a 1 watt energy saving lamp up there but at what point did the twin blew that one too?”

“Oh sorry, I forgot that you were too busy face-sucking with Michele to notice anything else” Charlie gave back, yet not as light hearted and as amused as he usually delivered his comebacks. He almost sounded pissed off and Harry frowned:

“The fuck Charlie? I am just honestly amazed how lovesick one can be.”

“You’re really over the moon like a school boy with him” Paddy hummed and Harry cackled.

“Yeah, because I forgot that lousy moon and shot for this TWINKling star – “

“I swear to god Charlie, I am insulted I had to hear this with my own two ears!” Harry’s shout interrupted him and brought a grin back onto the other’s, making him giggle. “Quit laughing arsehole, this pun was terrible!”

“And is going over my head. What’s so funny?” Paddy asked and Harry drew air in as he made a face and Charlie explained:

“It’s a term from the gay community! Well, especially when it comes to porn, but nevermind. A young, also _youthfully looking_ chap around 18 up to 25 years is called a twink after some American sweet.”

“Oh, yeah, we had that talk, didn’t we” Paddy said with a frown, not focusing on Charlie but on his memory. “The only thing I can remember is that the other guys are called bears.” His gaze was lost for a few more seconds, mouth open and thus giving him a rather dumb look. Then he shifted it back to Charlie with a frown:

“That was really a bloody awful pun.”

“Fucking thank you old man” it came from Harry, but Charlie kept grinning and only shrugged:

“I think it’s suiting him – Marco and the twinkling star I mean.” Then he sighed and looked upwards into the grey sky:

“Little talented sweet faced cheeky monkey. Ah, and I already thought he was adorable when I got to know the twins together!”

Paddy sighed and Harry said “Aaand here we go again.”

Charlie looked at him with an unamused expression:

“You asked how I can be so lovesick.”

“That you like him because you he’s cocky, sweet looking and into a lot of things you like, I know. Still, how can one be so damn blind by love? Shit, this isn’t blind, that’s mentally disabled.”

“That’s a middle school crush coming 12 years too late” Paddy said. Harry laughed and Charlie’s face darkened even more. “If he’d still have a diary, it’d be full with little hearts and Marco’s name.”

“Thank you two for taking me so serious” Charlie said in a grave voice and Paddy snorted, Harry laughed louder.

“Lad, there’s nothing wrong with that” Paddy said with a dreamy smile. “It’s just that school crushes stay school crushes. You’re not a boy anymore, Charlie, and Marco isn’t either, so dealing with it like a boy won’t help.”

“Yeah, come on Charlie, if your after his arse, go and hunt for it like the man you are. You’re His Gayesty, not the rainbow prince” Harry grinned while observing the entrance again. “And you being on cloud nine is not only annoying the living daylights out of us at times, but is also damn far from Marco who’s still with two feet on the ground.”

Charlie didn’t reply, his look only turning insecure and lost as he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. Paddy’s smile dropped into a worried expression even before the younger one answered quietly:

“Maybe I don’t want to get off of cloud nine. I haven’t been there in quite a while, you know? I’ll just …”, he sighed and moved his head. “I’ll just throw a corded latter down so Marco can join me.”

“Charlie …” Paddy sighed as well when Harry cut him off:

“Ah fuck.”

He put the binoculars away and ruffled through his hair.

Suddenly, everything that had weighed them down before was gone and only presentiment was in their voices now:

“What’s wrong?” Paddy asked and Harry started walking up and down:

“I looked around a bit more and spotted a guy staring into our direction.”

“Where?” Charlie asked, taking a step forward while Harry passed him:

“There, around the corner of the building.”

“Sure that’s a guy, not a boy – whoops, the babyface’s getting company and that’s indeed some guys.”

Harry sighed and stood still, staring at the tree in front of him.

“Hmpf” was Paddy’s share to the conversation and Charlie looked at the old man before he laughed.

“Hmpf” he said and immediately chuckled again. Paddy smiled faintly at him while Harry had started to walk again:

“What? Someone saw us. There’s not much we can do now.”

“We could try and act less like stalkers” Harry said and Charlie followed his friend’s moves with an amused smile:

“Yeah, says the bloke who’s making circles like Archimede.”

“What Charlie, I am just looking around because this hill is a very good spot to find out where we end up” Harry snapped and Charlie rolled his eyes with a smile. “Since were just some tourists who took two or five wrong turns.”

“What do we do if we have to leave before they are finished?” Paddy asked and both of the others looked at him before Harry replied with a drawn out “Eeeeerrr…” and Charlie leant his head back and turned his look upwards.

“What do we do if they get captured?”

“Eeeeerrr …”

Charlie tilted his head.

“None of us really thought this through, neither them or us, did we.”

“Eeeeer – yeah.”

“Apparently old man.”

Paddy sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes back to the building:

“They’re gone.”

“Good” Charlie said with a happy expression while Harry crossed his arms:

“Or not. Ah fuck, that’s just _great!_ And so damn typical of us, running into something without any preparation.”

“To be fair, this all sounded a lot safer than it now turns out to be” Charlie gave back.

“We could retreat for the time being and come back when Michele asks how it’s with the entrance” Paddy said and Harry frowned while Charlie stared upwards again.

“Fair plan” they both said, but then Harry bit his lip.

“Or we stay here and you keep an eye out for our surroundings while I keep an eye on the entrance. We’ll go if someone comes again. Our part’s to stay here so we will stay here.”

“Aye-Aye Boss” Charlie replied, taking a few steps to the side to have a better look at where the others had disappeared just a few minutes ago.

“That’s fair, too” Paddy said and took a few steps to the opposite side.

Harry’s hands went into his jacket, fumbling with the binocular.

_I won’t leave you in the lurch, darling._

He pulled it out and once more surveyed the back of the building.

_And more importantly I’ll do my fucking job! Pah, as if I’d chicken out that easily!_

But as long as nothing had happened before, nothing happened now and Harry’s thoughts wandered off again …

_“Bye hon, love you, I’ll be back soon.”_

_“And what if not?”_

_“Harry, it’s just a little prank between our families. He’s not going decapitate me or get me behind bars in his personal dungeon.”_

_“He has a personal dungeon?”_

_“Or a tower hidden in the woods where this ugly dragon hides all the pretty princes and princesses like me.”_

He rubbed his nose, still feeling the ghost of the kiss on it.

_“See? No need to worry, I’ll be back like nobody’s business.”_

But Harry wasn’t the only one who got lost in thoughts.

 _It’s not quite fair to fall in love with someone who’s around you all the time_ , Charlie thought.

_I can’t tell him – yet. I mean, he knows anyways and deliberately ignores it but even if that gate is open already, like hell I’ll be a bull and kick it off its hinges._

_Time will tell – one day there’s going to be that one moment that’s perfect. That one moment that no matter what I say, no one can misinterpret as playful flirt but as a full blown out ‘I want you’. Or he’ll finally come onto me and ditches that naïve attitude. I’ll just have to keep on nudging until I get what I want._

_…_

He let his head hang and sighed deeply.

_As if I am not blunt about everything else to everyone else. As if I am not lacking a brain-to-mouth filter most of the time. The hell am I doing? Rather dance on tiptoes like this for the next months just so I don’t ruin it? Rather keeping my mouth shut and rip my own heart into little pieces then just tell him directly?_

_… Well, rather than risking my feelings going wild when he turns me down for once and forever. As lover, as friend, as anyone who has the chance to –_

“Charlie, you’re supposed to watch out!”

“I’m sorry boss! Hey, you’re not exactly keeping an eye on – “

“Charlie!”

“Fine! Sorry boss!”

Paddy had shifted his look for a moment as well; then turning his head and stolid looked for anything suspicious in his area.

He was worried about the whole situation, about this whole mission.

And a little bit about the entire private thing between the boys and the Sicilians. Not that Paddy would say it out loud or, god forbid, flat out tell them they shouldn’t. He wasn’t their father, after all, just the guardian and for once they were old enough to know who to date and who not to date and secondly, love was blind – he couldn’t blame them for falling in it.

But like every guardian he still worried for their wellbeing.

Because god knew what would happen if their business relationship with Sicily would start going downhill or worse, was a trap set by this Vento bloke from the start. It would end in a crash, most certainly; a deadly one maybe.

And even if they’d get out alive and halfway okay, the boys’ hearts would be wrecked nonetheless.

Something he truly wished upon no one, the least on _his_ boys. Heartbreak was always nasty and if it ended like this, it was guaranteed to sting _badly._

“Alright, let’s go” Harry said while hiding the binoculars again. “Because the dude from before showed up through the back entrance aaand is now staring at us, so it’s better-“

“Do you hear the footsteps, too, Frecky?” Charlie asked and Harry almost forgot to shot him a glare for the nickname. _Almost._

“Yes.” And Harry already knew that if he could hear the footsteps over the noise of the busy street, it could mean no good.

“Let’s just jump down the damn hill” Paddy snarled when a voice came from below the hill:

“Signori! May I ask what you are doing here?”

Charlie was not only the first one to reply because it had been said in Italian but also because he could already see the owner of the voice and his company.

A man around 30 with a friendly grin on his face, accompanied by a woman in her fourties or fifties, chewing on something. Their black leather jackets had something uniform.

“Ah, we’ve got lost out here because I wanted to show my friends something but didn’t exactly remember where it was. Haven’t been in Rome in a while” Charlie replied with a bashful smile and the man cocked an eyebrow:

“And now you’re doing what here?”

“Get a clue where we are! If you’d be so nice and speak English, so my friends can, too – “

While Charlie talked with the man, the woman had stared at Harry who had only stared back with a displeased frown, close to asking what the fuck she was staring at.

But she spoke up without being asked:

“Aren’t you that man that everyone’s talking about lately?” she interrupted Charlie and instead put the focus on Harry.

“Hah” he replied, sounding not very clever nor friendly.

The woman took a step towards him – and so did Paddy behind Harry – chewing again.

“I mean, all the pictures I have seen of O’Connel had a poor quality … But you can’t hide such a face.”

“Thank you for the compliment but I have no idea what you are talking about” Harry said and the woman chuckled:

“Probably wasn’t a compliment, youngster.”

“Most certainly has the eyebrows and freckles. And the messy hair” the man mused with a pleased smile. “Though the nice face shape is a surprise, those photos really have been of poor quality.”

The woman laughed again while Harry’s look just darkened a notch and he slowly bit his lip.

The man’s apparently never leaving smile turned into smirk:

“Come on, Signore O’Connel, you know this is as good as over. So do you want to tell me where’s Vento now or do we have to take the three of you inside first?”

Harry let out a small “Heh” as he let go of his lip, a grin spreading from one ear to the other:

“Surely you can take us inside but the only thing that you’ll get from me is the dirt on my shoes in your hallways.”   
  


* * *

 

Was Lovino pleased about the spies outside? No.

Was Lovino pleased about the intruders, very likely inside this building? Definitely not.

Was he pleased that the first time he saw the affiliates of this bastard Vento they were his prisoners?

Damn right he was.

“And I thought I would have to go the bother of calling on them at one point to tell them they should stop meddling in my future territory” Lovino hummed, feet on the desk his brother was sitting on. “But no, they deliver themselves free house! How lucky can one be?”

Dolcetto didn’t felt pleased like his boss at all when he went through the corridors side to side with his captives.

He didn’t like the chattiness of the two younger guys but neither how damn quiet the old one was.

Or the look on his face.

Or his damn size.

Dolcetto was walking right next to him but didn’t even reach his shoulder with the top of his head and when he turned to look at him he had to lift his head.

He had to actually lean back and _lift_ his stupid chin to look at this stupid Irish who better wiped that smile off his face _immediately._

The only thing that made the Venetian feel at least a minimum of contentment was that he had captured them after all, the fact that they were the new allies of those pesky Sicilians only feeding into his good mood.

Paddy didn’t like the situation but it would be a lie if one said he couldn’t see its bright side.

Well, he couldn’t see it immediately. He had to turn his head and look down to notice the small Italian.

Paddy couldn’t supress the faint grin creeping on his face and replacing the smile from before; he didn’t even bother with stopping.

Because within the big man still lied an easily amused boy.

Charlie was talking with the other male guard and Harry – well, _the_ male guard, because if Paddy remembered Michele’s description correctly and Charlie had understood their conversation earlier right, this small guy was their boss Acerbi.

God, he shouldn’t be this entertained in such a situation. This was serious business after all, he should try and make something out of this unlucky situation.

He looked down to Acerbi once more:

“How’s the weather down there.”

Harry and Charlie burst into laughter, a noise that accompanied Acerbi’s face of disbelief and being insulted very nicely and Paddy thought that the Bontades had been right – It was fun to tease that guy already.

Acerbi leant forwards to shoot the boys a death glare too and Charlie acknowledged it with a chuckle in his throat, then he looked to Paddy:

“Wanna trade places, old man? I’m afraid you’ll trip over him on accident!”

The three broke into another laughing fit and Dolcetto suddenly pictured this stupid old geezer and these fucking obnoxious guys ‘accidentally’ tripping, landing face first on the floor. And hopefully not only O’Connel would lack teeth then.

“I think we offended our little friend here” O’Connel’s friend said with a cocky grin that Dolcetto wouldn’t mind the pulling of teeth by fist either.

“What is he gonna do, strangle me?” the old one said.

“I’ll find a way, bastard” Dolcetto hissed at him, only to earn more laughter and a confident – condescending – look from the old one:

“How about a ladder?”

“Or a step stool!” O’Connel said.

If Dolcetto had to hear this idiotic laughter one more time in his life, he’d punch someone.

“You better shut up now-“ Dolcetto started.

“Or else what?” O’Connel interrupted him and he shot the Irish a glare:

“Or else I am gonna kick your arse that you all will meet the boss on your knees.”

“Uh, I’m quivering in fear” were the first words Lovino heard, said by voice unknown to him, when Tivoli opened the door.

Now, it was a strange trio in person but suited the descriptions he had heard nonetheless.

O’Neill, a giant with experience written in his face.

Higgins, a show off with a mouth bigger than it was good for him.

And Harry O’Connel, the leprechaun with the short fuse, who now came stumbling into his office.

“Ah, not on your knees yet? Let me put the boot in again” Dolcetto growled with almost clenched teeth and his foot still raised, earning miffed looks from the Irish and a cough from his boss:

“Signore Acerbi, don’t you think this was a little rude?”

Dolcetto still didn’t look friendly but took a step back to lean onto the closest wall.

Harry’s back hurt and he silently swore to get back at this runt of an Italian before he looked at the guy speaking Italian in front of him.

The man looked neat, the smile on him studied. His hair was brown, straight and rather short. Strange enough, he had a curl like Michele, just more noticeable.

His suit was black, with a deep red shirt and a silver tie.

Harry had to think of a salesman immediately, especially when he opened his arms with the grin on his face:

“I am sorry about the rough treatment Signori. Why don’t you come and take a seat?”

Harry noticed three chairs in front of him. He had almost stumbled into one.

They looked very used, scratches in the dark coating; didn’t want to fit in with the image Vargas – it had to be one of the Vargas – sold.

“Thank you” he said with a grin as artificial as his and pulled the chair back to sit down, Charlie and Paddy following. As the latter one said down, the chair creaked ugly.

“I am very sorry Signore O’Neill, those facilities’ means are not really dimensioned for your dimensions” Vargas said and painted surprise into the faces of all of the Irish. “Nor are they for visitors in general. I had hoped to meet you in a bit more … impressive setting, Signore O’Connel.”

“Well, I like the whole ‘We’re going to bury you in an abandoned corner of this garbage dump of a storage’ it gives off’” Charlie said and Harry laughed again.

“Nice to know Signore Higgins” Vargas said. “And you have a blooming fantasy. Real trash like you gets dumped in their own, personal spot of the Tiber.”

“Isn’t that environmental pollution?”

“If I sent you swimming with all that gel in that awful mop of hair, yes.”

Harry had a hard time holding the chuckle in while his friend only stared at the Italian with an open mouth. Vargas had already turned back to Harry when Charlie spoke up again:

“No one insults my hair.”

“I insult your hair on a daily basis” Harry said, having turned his head shortly to Charlie.

“Did you really just stab me in the back in front of the enemy, Frecky?”

“Did you really just call me Frecky in front of the enemy?”

“Lads, stop acting like middle schoolers in front of the enemy.”

“Yeah, if the enemy could say something, that’d be really nice” Vargas said and they turned their heads to him.

The smile was still there but apparently they had worn his patience to keep his masquerade up thin already.

“Because I would like to ask you a few things.”

“You did your homework when it came to us, so sure Mister Vargas, permission granted” Harry grinned.

“Did you do your homework, too, Signore? Let that be the first question.”

“Hm …” Harry said, looking closely at Vargas. “Since my bitch senses are tingling like it’s code red, I guess you must be Lovino Vargas.”

The grin still wouldn’t disappear but the side of pissed off was new in his face:

“I see, Vento gave you very biased information.”

“True or biased, you can choose what you want” Harry replied before he shifted his look away, his eyes wandering around the whole room for the first time.

“And since that bloke looks very alike to you, and sits on a desk, I assume this must be Feliciano” he said and Lovino turned around, first confused, then upset and saying something in Italian to his brother:

“Why are you still sitting on the desk Feli! Be professional, goddammit!”

“Scusi” Feliciano giggled, getting off the table, and Charlie snorted as well while Harry spotted other people, more or less hidden in the shadows.

“I guess, the two sitting in those arm chairs at the back of the room are Miss Acerbi and Mister Bellini. Also, there’s Mister Acerbi, probably still glaring at me from behind. And then there gotta be – “

“The fact that Michele totally left something out when he gave us the info. Either that or that guy with the A+ face back there in the corner isn’t Belfari” Charlie cut him off and Harry first followed his look before he turned to Charlie:

“Are you shitting me, Charlie.”

“That’s what I thought when I spotted him” Charlie replied, not taking his look off the man in the corner, who grinned from one ear to the other. “Hi handsome.”

“It’s really not the time or the place for that right now, Charlie” Paddy commented and Charlie rolled his eyes:

“Time stands still if you look at true beauty.”

While Belfari was clearly not successful at stifling his laughter, Charlie’s head quickly turned away from him after Harry’s next sentence:

“I am going to tell Marco.”

“Don’t you dare, Frecky! Besides, just because I like one person doesn’t mean I am not allowed to admire other pretty people!”

“You are straight up drooling!”

“Enough of that!” Lovino interrupted them and Feliciano threw a look over his shoulder to Belfari:

“Franci, I am afraid you’ll have to leave. You are disturbing the working atmosphere.”

A disappointed “Awww” came from both, Charlie and Belfari, that Feliciano burst in laughter he quickly muffled behind his hand.

“He is not the only one disturbing the atmosphere” Lovino said, looking displeased at his brother, who gave a confused look back but still couldn’t stop his laughter, Belfari having started to laugh as well.

“And I can’t do anything against my good looks unlike you and your laughter” Belfari added and the noise level rose again.

“You two are class clowns” Miss Acerbi – Gabriella – said something in Italian as well.

Harry could get used to such a treatment when he got captured.

Lovino added something as well – “Heard her? You are behaving like a kid, Feli. Quit laughing dammit!” – before he gave Harry his undivided attention:

“Alright, enough with love, peace and harmony. I know why you’re here, so cut your attitude and tell me: Where’s Vento.”

“Who said he was nearby? Maybe he just talked so much about you that I was dying to meet you!” Harry replied deadpan and Lovino bristled:

“I mean, Vento’s stupid enough to take his boy toy along, but that said boy toy is also stupid enough to joke with me is a little bit disappointing.” He looked down on Harry, whose good mood was visibly gone. “But birds of a feather flock together, huh?”

Even Feliciano’s laughter died down now and a sort of silence filled the room that hadn’t been there before.

“I think you wanted to say business partner” he gave back. “Both starts with B, I know it’s hard for your brain to keep it apart, but I am only going to punch you in the face for one.”

“’Business partner’, sure” Lovino said amused. “The only time you two are busy with each other are in bed, isn’t it? Who knows, maybe he planned this to show off his new pet.” He leant in and Harry wanted to just grab this stupid curl and pull at it: “But then I’ve got to say I’m not impressed.”

“I am no pet but I’ll bite you in the arse no less if you don’t stop your shit talk” Harry snarled.

“Shit talk? I know Vento better than you, everyone who heard the news knows that all he did was buying himself an outpost in northern Europe, inclusive your sorry ass because, I can’t understand why, he thought it would look good on his bedsheets.”

“Wow brother, now you’re getting mean” Feliciano said. “Everyone is beautiful in their own way, aren’t they? And if Michele sees that in Signore O’Connel, let him invest his money in that! To each their own.”

“It’s none of your business, Vargas,” the tone of Harry’s voice nipped the rising mood of the Italian in the bud, “what is between me and Michele as couple. But what’s your business, is when you’ll get payback from _me_ for those comments. Me, not Michele. I know, you can barely see anyone below you on your high horse, but every peasant can frighten such an animal.”

“Did you just call yourself a peasant?” Lovino asked, still grinning and Harry bit his lip, exhaling heavily.

Suddenly, a smile reappeared on his face: “Is it a bad thing? We are peasants, right?”

He looked to the left and the right. Paddy smiled, Charlie frowned at first. Despite that, his best friend was the first one to jump on the train:

“Ireland, the land of faithful potato peasants. Those faithful potato peasants who brought the world power England to their knees and out of their country.”

“After having been slaves for so long, do you think any Irishmen would ever make themselves dependent like that on another person?” Paddy said, looking Lovino straight in the face. The fact that they were at eye level despite the Irish sitting, was just making it all the better. “Or let someone say that we do? You’re really bold to insult our independency like that.”

“So, are we scared yet of falling and getting dirty, good sir?” Harry asked.

“Your horse isn’t really looking brave, either” Charlie said.

Lovino stared at them, but his condescending, tired glare only fuelled Harry’s good mood.

“Tsk” he got out at last. “So that’s why Michele likes you. This entire freedom bullshit.”

“Birds of a feather flock together! I bet he and Michele are a really cute couple!” Feliciano said: “How convenient that Michele will join soon!”

“And I am being rude, you little bitch?” Lovino asked his brother amused in Italian.

“Whaaat, I am not a little bitch.” Feliciano smiled, looking like the definition of an angel.

The mood continued to lighten up as they carried on their conversation but Harry only bit his lip.

This was not over yet.  
  


* * *

 

“Will we get to the Indiana Jones part now?” Marco asked as they approached their goal.

“Yes, but please make it less dramatic, we’ve got no time and there isn’t a giant boulder that will crush you in case you fail” Michele said, focusing on the small number pad next to the door.

“Are you sure of that?” Lorenzo probed into it and Michele hesitated after punching in the first number.

0084.

“What about deadly arrow traps?” Marco said.

Lorenzo: “The door might close.”

Both: “And even if we get out, maybe there is a giant boulder then.”

Michele hesitated for another second before he shrugged and punched the next numbers in:

“Well then, at least props to him being creative.”

4568.

And as the sound of the thick bolts slipping back into the frame followed, he put his hands into his pockets and grinned satisfied: “Even though that was _my_ plan for _his_ next turn.”

He pulled the door open and looked at the twins: “And now make it quick, you two.”

“Yes big brother!” they replied gleefully, quickly slipping into the dark room.

“You know what to look for?”

“Michele, we literally have a copy of the stupid painting here!”

“Stop asking!”

“Fine!” Michele said and turned away from the door.

They had whispered as quietly as they could and hadn’t heard no one in minutes, hadn’t crossed paths with another human since that woman.

Which could be a good sign like ‘She didn’t tell on us’ or ‘They are tracking us down right now and this is only the calm before the storm.’

Should he ask Harry if everything was alright out there?

His phone was turned off and Michele actually didn’t want to risk turning on and then having it meddle with the handy little remote Laterza and Mancuso had built for him. It had taken them long enough to make one that had remotely worked and Michele wouldn’t take chances so close to his goal.

And what for? They just had to look and watch out, they couldn’t fuck up such an easy task.

Some steps were coming closer, steps and voices, closer to the corridor with no place to hide and an opened door that shouldn’t be open.

The twins stared at him as he hurried in and closed the door behind him. He waved his hand towards them:

“Go on!”

Meanwhile, the steps became louder and even though the room was insulated by the thick walls and door, Michele could hear the conversation from outside as he put his ear to the door:

“Fine, it was nothing! It’s not like I’ll look inside anyways!” one of the voices said.

“It’s not like you _can_ look inside! And if you keep being that careless, Signorina Acerbi is never going to let you near the dear paintings!” the other responded.

“Uh, I am so sad!” This voice laughed, the other didn’t. “I mean, it will also probably be Signorina Acerbi in there. Who else should it be, those Sicilians? I still don’t believe they are here just because they caught those Irish guys outside.”

“You are honestly so dumb at times, Kristina” was the last thing Michele heard before the voices became too quiet to make any words out.

“Easy task, huh? Dammit Harry” Michele hissed and the twins turned their hands abruptly:

“What did they do?” they asked and he bristled before adjusting his suit.

“I have no idea” Michele said. “But whatever it is, Lovino knows about it and Lovino is also deciding what to do about it. And now I’ll be on my way to veto this.”

“How?” they asked once more, both of them looking visibly distressed as far as Michele could make it out in the dimly lit room.

“I have no idea, all I know is it will involve a lot of yelling at Lovino and probably Harry. Definitely the yelling at Lovino part” he said, shrugging and gesturing with his hands. “You’ll have to get this done alone.”

“What about you?” Lorenzo asked.

“Oh, no worries” Michele replied. “You know pretty damn well that I can handle this idiot.”

“How you’re planning to get back?” Marco asked and Michele sighed:

“He’ll let us go after some time. I mean, he can’t just keep us here for nothing. But you know what this means, too.”

“We’ll have to get out without being caught or even seen” Lorenzo said and looked at his brother.

“Which automatically means we have to do this really quick” Marco concluded and Michele nodded:

“Exactly.”

“Tell the Irish we’re gonna kick them for the inconvenience” Lorenzo snarled and Marco nodded before turning back to the paintings nearby the velvet covered table.

“Oh trust me, I will” Michele replied and pressed the door handle down, fumbling with the remote again:

“See you later, my boys.”

He let the door handle snap back up and stayed that Lorenzo frowned confused, but before he could ask, Michele threw the remote to Lorenzo with a “Catch. And handle it carefully, you know how long it took those guys.”

Lorenzo nodded and Michele went outside.

A second before he shut the door, a small whirring sound came from out of the room but he had no time; someone was already coming again so he hurried down to the opposite end of the corridor. Even though being caught was more or less inevitable, like hell would he _run_ into someone and hand Lovino his own ass on a silver plate.

The Italian was surely proud that he had found out about the three, Michele thought as he waited around a corner. But maybe it would operate to their advantage since all Lovino now could think about was probably what to do with those Irish who hopefully gave him a hard time right now.

Michele even had a smirk on his face as he scurried around the next corner, entering the staircase.

It had only been three months, of course, but he had gotten a taste of those three men – mostly of Harry of course. And his boyfriend was sure as hell one who could burn Lovino’s already short fuse within no time. Oh what a lovely image in his mind.

But the closer he came to the office, not only did more people show up with each crossed corridor so his progress became agonizingly slow, but bad thoughts started to occur painfully often.

The first time his archenemy meets his new partner – in either way – it all goes down in his favour and he is the party with the upper hand. Lovino’s ego was already through the roof of a skyscraper and this event was surely not breaking it down in any way.

But the thing with the painting would. Even though Harry had screwed up this time, or Michele himself with a lousy plan, he still believed that Marco and Lorenzo would handle the situation just fine.

This back and forth with the Vargas Clan had been going on for three years by now and Michele could only remember two times where it hadn’t worked.

And both times Lovino had been the one who failed. He adjusted his suit collar one last time, a big grin on his face. Anything Lovino’s ego could do, his could do better.

Plan A had failed. But Plan B was still in execution and what difference did it make? Lovino had surely gotten a handful of the Irish’s opposition and Michele knew now that either Plan A had been flawed or that he shouldn’t take the Irish on missions.

He was an old hand, he was 5 years ahead of Lovino when it came professional experience. And no newbie, especially no Italian newbie, would ruin his ‘fun mission.’

“Don’t even try” he said to the guard in front of the office door as he noticed the Sicilian. “I come here on my own accord and you’re not going to change this. The only thing you may do is open that door for me and tell your boss that a special guest arrived.”


	6. Italian Affairs

It didn’t matter that she only let the episodes wash over her now; she knew them by heart anyways.

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t hungry when she ate another small piece of pancake every now and then.

All that mattered was that her eyes might still be swollen, but no tears dwelled in them anymore.

And yet Sophie worried about how she should survive that weekend, because comfort eating and Doctor Who wasn’t something she would be able to do all weekend. Not even when she would spend half of the day sleeping.

That would only lead to being awake for half the night anyways and Soph knew that personal monsters were a lot easier to fight at day than at night.

That reminded her that autumn had started and days would get shorter, nights would get longer …

Back then, when her father had still been alive, she had loved autumn and winter, she had loved the cosy evenings and nights with someone by her side.

Back then, autumn and winter had meant watching old Halloween and Christmas movies with Harry. It had meant collecting interestingly coloured leaves and building snowmen in the front yard. It had been the time of the year when her dad had read dozens of winter themed stories to her in front of the crackling fire and when Paddy had tried to play Christmas songs on his guitar. The time of hot cocoa, biscuits and getting together.

That was everything it had been.

Now, as soon as the days started to get shorter and as temperatures dropped, the cold started to sneak into Soph’s head and home. Harry was too caught up in work to watch cheesy movies with her or to be at home even, her dad was no longer and Paddy suffered from the same stress as Harry, the guitar probably already gathering dust in his flat.

She once had tried to listen to an audio book with Christmas stories on it, several times actually. When she had tried it while being 13, it had led to a panic attack about missing her father. Luckily Harry had been upstairs with Charlie and both had tried their best to console her and make her calm down again, to take the terrible feeling of suffocation from her chest.

The last time had been a year ago and she had only stared lost into the fireplace, noticing that at one point tears had started to fall in her cocoa. It had felt so hollow. Everything that used to be filled to the brim with lovely family times felt so hollow since her dad died. It might even have already started when Harry had turned away from them.

Of course it had felt hollow; someone’s place had been empty.

She could only remember one good tradition that had started after her dad died: She and Harry had tried to make biscuits but no matter how many times they tried, something went wrong every time and after Charlie, witness to the murder by fire of many innocent biscuits, had told his mother about it, she decided to come over and help.

Soph guessed it was also because Gwendolyn felt lonely herself after the death of her husband, even more so since Charlie moved out and now was hopping around the globe with Harry.

But she was just guessing and as long as she had fun helping Gwendolyn mess up the kitchen – she didn’t want to call her contribution to the biscuits baking – and Gwendolyn liked baking cookies with her and ranting about how horrible Christmas is for retail workers like her, the reasons didn’t matter. The fun did and that, within that certain tradition, every role was filled.

And her first thought was asking Gwendolyn for help when she checked her phone and saw the messages in the chat group her class had made on Viber.

Of course it had been about the party on Monday, about the organization exactly and Fíona said that according to the list with who had done what at past class events, it was Soph’s and another guy’s turn to bring cake.

Dammit. Soph could brush of responsibility if someone said she should do something just because, but she couldn’t argue against a list. Besides, it would have been unfair to other classmates since two already had to make cake _again._

So she just accepted her fate with a “No problem :)” and put the phone down, taking a deep breath followed by a puff.

Yes, Gwendolyn’s help would make this all very easy and she’d have someone around in this empty house. But why the easy way when there was also the hard one? That was the right one after all. Otherwise every story about cheating kids would have lied to her so far.

And Gwen was working today anyways while Soph had too much free time at hand – enough free time for the long, dark way plastered with a lot of burned biscuits, screaming in agony as the flames licked them --

Soph did not only had too much free time at hand but also too much fantasy.

And fantasy was not the only thing that suddenly filled her mind and pushed the bad, nasty thoughts aside. Happiness and energy chased the hollowness of her heart away, filled it and made it beat so fast that Soph would go crazy if she had to endure any more second sitting still on this couch.

So she turned the TV off, hopped from the couch and quickly went upstairs, her heavy and fast steps making the one of the stairs groan.

And they groaned again just minutes later when Soph came down again, wearing trousers, boots and a scarf now. The stone steps in front of her house got spared when she hopped over them, body and head also protected by a thick jacket and a benny hat; no way Soph would let any cold get to her.

“Woah, are you on the run or what’s up with you?” her neighbour asked when Soph fumbled with the front gate.

She looked up and over to Alby, who was raking leaves in his garden. Well, right now the middle-aged man was leaning on his rake.

“Uhm, kinda?” she replied and laughed, eyes on the gate again.

“Kinda? What’s up, sweetie, did you find a spider in there?”

“I am not that much of a wimp, thank you” she replied and finally opened the gate. “I am just on the run from boredom. Isn’t it weird how big such a house is when you’re alone.”

“You tell me, my girlfriend’s on the countryside since Friday” he sighed and then smiled at her: “You could come over if you want to.”

“Oh, thanks for the invitation but I’ve got some stuff to do later” Soph said hastily, closing the gate behind her.

Somehow the smile had unsettled her.

“I thought you were bored, that’s why I asked.” He still smiled at her and Soph wished he would just rake those leaves again. “For how long is your brother away.”

“Monday. I really got to go now, though, I wanted to collect leaves. Me and my brother wanted to decorate the house with it when he’s back.”

She had already turned around when he answered: “Do you want to look through my leaves? As you can see, I’ve got plenty of them.”

The smile on her face was thin and forced as she looked at him.

He still laughed; it only died down when she answered:

“I want to look for the pretty leaves from the big trees first, but maybe later if I still need some! Bye!”

“Alright! Just tell me once you are back! You know, I could help you decorating too!”

_I said bye you wanker!_

“No, it’s really important to do that with my brother!” she said, slowing down a bit and looking over her shoulder: “Family time, you know!”

“We could decorate my house, then! Would surely surprise my girlfriend!”

Both laughed, even though both laughs were fake in different ways.

“Do it with your girlfriend once she’s back! Partner time!”

Still laughing, Soph began to run again, the corners of her mouth immediately dropping once she had turned out of her street.

Her heart had already beat out of her chest before she had started running and her legs sure didn’t felt weak from it when she leant against the wall of the bus shelter from around the corner.

The irrational -

_Well, how irrational?_

\- fear that Alby would follow her started to crawl up and her head still felt clouded when she took a look at the time table.

After some time of staring at it she figured out that the next bus taking her to Dublin’s suburbs would come in 15 minutes and still slightly panting, she sat down in the bus shelter.

But just as she thought the worst was over, another thought got her upset again and she quickly went through her jacket and jeans pocket.

No money or bus ticket, not even after the third time of looking through every pocket, even though she was relieved that she took her key with her.

But like hell would she run back and pass Alby again, having another uncomfortable conversation, just for a bus ticket. She had two fit legs and walking was better than riding a bus anyways. Walking got your brain working and it was good for your health.

She let her head hang.

Yeah, it would be very good to burn some calories after eating a ton of bacon pancakes.

She walked the first few metres without anyone crossing her path nor with any particular thought in mind; only as she spotted an oak tree which crown was a light yellow she remembered why she came out and what she had told Alby.

A little more down the lane she spotted a small apple tree with brown and red sprinkles within the yellow leaves.

She went the few meters to the next street, looking down to see more trees, some blank already but other’s proudly wearing every autumn’s trend colours. The sidewalk was littered with the leaves that had already fallen, a girl and her puppy playing with them in the front yard while her father watched the two from the doorstep.

This world was really cruel and stupid, but at the very same time, beautiful to the core and Soph couldn’t help the smile on her face.  
  


* * *

  
Matteo Tivoli frowned upon hearing noises from outside, especially since he immediately recognized the angry tone of his colleague Buffone.

This guy really had nothing better to do than being a hot tempered macho jerk, now did he?

But when Tivoli saw with who he came through the door, he had to stare in surprise.

“Ordering me around like that, tsk, who do you think you are, jackass?” he hissed at the Sicilian in front of him but Michele Vento’s glare was directed straight forward at Lovino.

Then he turned his head abruptly to look at Buffone: “You know who I think I am?”

And just as abruptly, Michele turned his body enough to the side to ram his elbow in the Italian’s rips, leaning backwards with his whole weight that Buffone stumbled into the edge of the open door, letting go of the others arms to not fall completely.

Graceless, the Sicilian hopped forwards but steadied himself quickly and adjusted his suit while looking over his shoulder:

“Sicily’s most important Mafioso who doesn’t have the time to deal with some barbarian like you.”

Then he turned his head at Lovino: “Because if I come to you, then I come to you voluntarily, motherfucker, and not in chains.”

“You cocky bastard” Buffone hissed, arm already flying forward to grab him again but Lovino interrupted it:

“Leave it be, Signore Buffone. You also may leave now.”

He did leave with mumbling things under his breath that made Tivoli hope he didn’t kiss his mother with that mouth.

But as he saw how Michele looked at Lovino, he was somehow sure this wouldn’t be the worst he would hear today.

“What a ridiculous, staged entrance – What are you laughing about?” The first part had been directed at Michele, now Lovino glared at Harry who chuckled smirking.

“I just got informed that he called you motherfucker. I don’t know, but that’s a damn badass entrance if you asked me.”

“But nobody asked you” Lovino hissed while Michele laughed as well, walking up behind him:

“Thank you, mi amore.”

“I also thought this was a more than nice show” Charlie said, Paddy adding:

“The expert has spoken.”

“The expert on overly dramatic entrances?” Harry asked and again they all laughed, but were interrupted by Lovino:

“Just keep on and pretend that everything is alright. Your laughter will stick in your throat soon enough.”

“Well, it is indeed a mood killer how you treat your guests. Handcuffed to their chairs, not even offering me one? Do I have to sit on Signore O’Connels lap?”

“Oh yeah, come and sit on my lap darling” Harry grinned while Charlie turned to Michele again:

“In his defence, he only handcuffed us to the chairs after Harry almost slapped him across the face.” He carried on after Michele gave his boyfriend a dreamy look and cupped his face with an “I am so proud of you”: “And I actually don’t mind that so much either because I got the chance to see this beautiful bloke up close.”

“Oh yeah, he got so _lucky_ that Mister Belfari himself took care of that” Harry explained and Michele started to look around the room displeased immediately.

Francesco shot him a grin worthy of being in a toothpaste commercial: “Hello Michele, how nice to see you again!”

“Traitor” Michele hissed at Charlie, earning a surprised look from all of the Irish.

“Not nice, Michele” Feliciano said with a frown. “Francesco is not to blame for being so blessed in looks and charms.”

“Aww, Feli, stop it! You’re gonna make me blush and Fabio jealous!”

“You keep me right out of this” Fabio said, a smile on his face though.

“Why am I a traitor?” Charlie meanwhile asked Michele with a frown, who answered it on his way around them:

“Because I am sick of everyone falling for this wannabe saint, philosopher and model.”

“I could totally understand if he wanted to be a model” Charlie only answered and Michele shot him another glare after sitting down on Harry’s lap.

“You’re just jealous of him, Michele” Lovino finally piped up. He was now leaning against the table like his brother, but admittedly looked a lot more bored than Feliciano who found Michele on Harry’s lap way too amusing. “Once again, your true, petty-minded self comes through.”

“Don’t judge me by your own standards” Michele replied nonchalantly, but Lovino just grinned back:

“If anything, I am judging you by your father’s standard.”

Harry kind of worried about his knees as Michele’s nails shortly dug into it:

“You don’t go there.”

“But hey, you’re not as petty-minded as him in the love department. Actually, I am surprised – “

“You know what doesn’t surprise me? That you grew up to be such a heartless bitch. What else without a mother and a father who couldn’t even take care of her.”

The temperature probably dropped another ten degrees and the amount of rage in Lovino’s eyes now equalled the ones in Michele’s. Even Feliciano bit his lips and stared upset at the ground, then glared at Michele.

“I told you to not go there” was the Sicilian’s only answer.

“And you have the nerve to call others heartless” Gabriella spoke up, having stood up and not looking any less upset at Michele.

“I’ll do as I am done by, Signorina Acerbi” Michele replied before looking at Lovino again:

“You want to talk about serious business? Fine, let’s talk about serious business but keep your petty comments to yourself, son of a bitch.”

“Fine” Lovino hissed, walking over and leaning down to him: “Then let’s start with you telling me what this entire fuss is about other than showing off your newest fuck toy.”

“Oi, we had this talk” Harry complained. “Stop calling me that.”

“It was a test for my new partners” Michele said. “And he’s right, insult him once more and you’re gonna get it.” A mean grin slipped on his face: “Also, big words for someone who’s a fuck toy himself. How’s Antonio, by the way? Haven’t heard from him in a while. Did you overdo it? Broke his bed and back?”

“Oh, screw you!” Lovino yelled and Michele giggled. “So much for serious business! But hey, let’s go back to the unimportant trifles then, you complained about not having a chair? You’ll get one, how rude of me, and to make up for it, you’ll even get your own handcuffs.”

Michele could only chuckle at Lovino’s pissed off grin while Harry answered:

“Oh no, Michele’s right there where he is supposed to be.”

“You shut up and get your nose out of other people’s business, because those are Italian affairs and none of yours!” Lovino told him but Harry only grinned:

“How about you get the stick out of your arse because I think me or Michele would love to put our foot there.”

“Oh, I know why I fell for you, bello!” Michele said, turning with another moony look to Harry as Lovino grabbed his curl and tugged at it, causing Michele to yelp and turn back to him.

But before he even could say anything, Michele grabbed his curl as well and Lovino winced in pain.

“Get a goddamn chair and a pair of handcuffs” Lovino hissed, Michele replying with “Try and get me off, bitch, you’ll sooner loose that stupid curl.”

“And I honestly thought this couldn’t get any weirder” Paddy finally spoke up and earned the attention of everyone in the room, except for Fabio. He looked at the older man though after he put the chair from the back of the room down beside them. “But in my entire lifetime I have not seen a standoff like this. Maybe I have been around the wrong people, but I have never seen two people threatening each other with curls of hair.”

It was silent for a second and Paddy started to look around: “Oh, everyone was listening to me? Don’t bother. I’m just the old man who’s here to keep an eye on everything. Go on with the program.”

Michele and Lovino both looked at him, hesitating with their actions, waiting for something, even though no one knew what.

Not even them.

It was interrupted by the tinkle of the handcuffs Gabriella had pulled out from the desk:

“This is really getting stupid and it’s time to put an end to it.”

“I wouldn’t say no to getting tied to a chair by you, Signorina Acerbi, but sadly, I am taken” Michele said, leaning back, turning his head – and kissing Harry.

A shy kiss at first, but Michele smashed his lips right back at his and just after a second, his tongue poked at Harry’s, both grinning into the kiss, Michele’s hand running through Harry’s hair, pulling him closer.

Charlie laughed: “Jesus, go get a room you too!”

Gabriella clenched her eyes shut: “Have some manners, oh my god.”

Lovino just pulled a face: “Gross! How much more – “

“I’d hope that you choke on your own tongues but this would be taking too long” Dolcetto said, grabbing Michele’s ponytail and interrupting the kiss.

“Oh, Signore Acerbi! Did you grow since I last saw you? Or are you as little as I kept you …”

The rest of the sentence got lost between grid teeth when Dolcetto pulled even harder, only let go when Harry grabbed his thigh and dug his nails into it.

“You’re acting up again?” Dolcetto hissed at him and Harry returned his displeased expression:

“I am acting up? Who’s acting like the three year old he looks like?”

“I have to agree with Dolcetto, though” Fabio said. “Public display of affection all well as long as no one visibly exchanges body fluids. Now Michele, will you come over voluntarily or do I have to make you?”

“I appreciate that you bothered with the chair, but my seat here is much more comfortable” Michele grinned, yet moved when Fabio cracked his knuckles, not without Lovino tripping him on his way over.

“And now we reached the point of it getting boring” Francesco said as Gabriella closed the handcuffs with a “You know, having you restrained by some piece of metal is always a pleasure to me and next time it’s hopefully iron bars.”

“I mean, we had it all! Conflict, romance, fights!”

“We had some gross couple and a lot of bitching” Dolcetto said.

“That’s how you would probably describe a lot of my nice evenings, you can make everything sound unsexy and dull” Francesco replied, making Charlie snort and Gabriella supress a grin.

“No, I am actually with Dolcetto here” Lovino said. “And we’re far away from the boring part.”

“Oh really? I am tied to a chair and my boyfriend’s too far away to kiss – “

“Or to let him stare on your arse” Charlie interrupted him, pursing his lips as he looked at Michele: “He’s also just a man and I promise it wasn’t often.”

“What, him or you?” Michele replied and Lovino grid his teeth, eyes squinted and directed at Michele. It looked like he wanted to pierce the Sicilian to his chair, kill him with this look alone:

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

Michele acted as if he wasn’t paying much attention to him, while Harry and Charlie argued beside him:

“Hm?”

“I have no idea what you did, but you needed time so you put this show on, got me busy and distracted with those idiots –“

Charlie and Harry interrupted their conversation to glare at him, Paddy looked as unimpressed as before.

“ – and now you sit here and hope that everything will go according to plan.”

Michele tilted his head as he looked at him; crossed his legs, squinted his eyes a little as well.

And then he started to laugh. At first a stifled chuckle, before he let it out, his dark, soft voice sounding higher pitched, ridiculous, as he leant his head back and laughed. “My plan failed” he still chuckled, taking a deep breath and coughed once, facing Lovino with a smirk. “All I wanted to do was to annoy you a little, or did you forget our little game? Hey, look at the bright side Lovino – I lost! For the first time, _I_ lost it!”

Michele’s grin didn’t went away, but it changed.

Wait, it didn’t. It had something threatening like a dog ready to bite all the time, the vibe just intensified: “That it doesn’t feel like a victory to you is not my fault.”

But the vibe was gone when he shook his head shortly, fringe falling in place again, just like Lovino’s visible strain was gone. His shoulders fell, the arms crossed in front of his chest got readjusted; they didn’t twitch anymore, ready to move and punch someone or hide his face behind them. Feliciano let go of the table, stopped staring at the ceiling and leant more forward to see Michele behind his brother. But he didn’t scoot the few centimetres he had made towards his brother before away from him now.

“I know, you’re very probably expecting to either find something suspicious or partners of mine, but I’ve got to disappoint you. As much as my beloved twins would have liked to join me and make fun of Shorty, they are back home in Palermo to keep my business running.”

He smiled to himself and snorted through his nose, looking onto the floor: “Even though they would have loved to see the Irish tied to chairs as much as you do. Sadly, they don’t like Harry very much.” He shrugged: “Which was another reason they declined to come here. Sad when the family is broken like that, huh?”

“Maybe we can reunite you” Lovino snarled and Michele pouted:

“You’re not believing me, are you?”

“You tell us anything, Michele” Feliciano said, peeking out him from behind his brother. “But not everything.”

He shrugged and leant back, looking around and at the ceiling: “Oh well, if you insist, go look for people who aren’t there. But don’t spend too much time doing it, because I wanted to be back at the hotel around six. I’ve ordered a good bottle of wine to my room, you know? Oh and the receptionist to call the police if I am not back by then.”

He smiled at the Vargas brothers: “And left them the name of this borough, too. So you should probably better be done by at least seven for your sake, but around five for the sake of the wine. It’s a long way to get back to the hotel.”

“You’re really trying your best to make me think that this is over, don’t you?”

Michele shrugged: “I’ll tell you anything.”

And the smile on his face was impish, made Harry’s heart beat faster and he laughed, throwing dreamy looks in his direction while Charlie just chuckled, grinning and saying something to Michele.

The only thing Tivoli was interested in was his colleague, who chewed on nicotine gum most of the time he met her. Febe Masi must have smoked a package daily back in the day, back when she had still worked for the father of the Vargas brothers, long before his time at this place.

She cocked her head and stared at Michele in the same way Paddy did.   
  


* * *

  
“I hope someone insults Shorty for us” Lorenzo said and Marco sighed, nodding in approval.

“Probably Harry, maybe Charlie, definitely Michele” he said and now it was Lorenzo’s turn to nod.

God, was this _boring._

People came and people went at the bus station, nobody wondering at the two young men for another reason than the obvious, perfect look-alike-ness.

Because none of them knew that the tired faces were the result from too much adrenaline before, adrenaline that had vanished by now.

But oh boy, had their veins been full of it not long ago.

“Alright, alright” Marco had whispered after the whirring sound, to himself and to his brother, a lousy attempt to calm down. The deep breath he had taken then had helped much more.

“Lorenzo, could you hold the case?” he had asked and his brother had been at his side within a second, arms open to catch the falling lid, and then having shoved them further to rest the entire case on them.

Marco’s eyes had quickly shifted from the painting in their case to the one on the table, back and forth, just to be sure.

Fucking up had not been a recommended option in this situation.

He had taken the painting by the frame left and right, palms having pressed against it and fingertips having supported the back. Like this, he had scooped the painting onto his right arm, now fingertips having pressed against the left side of the painting.

“Still need a free hand?” Lorenzo had asked grinning, having held the case the same way now. Marco had immediately noticed that even if he had wanted to not grin – why should he had wanted anyways – his face had grimaced in pain anyways. Those kind of balance acts required attention and tension.

“Sure” Marco had whispered, grabbing the upper corner of the painting while Lorenzo reached for the opposite bottom one.

“Got it” Marco had whispered, his hand now under it, having balanced it and Lorenzo nodded, letting go and tipping the painting off that it made its way to the floor.

In the first split second, the instinct had been to scream and throw everything away to get this one painting.

But another reflex kicked in, the fingers around the counterfeit having dug in harder while his other hand flipped down, grabbing the original by the upper side.

Lorenzo’s hand had been at the lid of the case which had also almost fallen from his arm and for a second, the two only stared at each other.

“Laugh or cry?” Marco had said, having pulled the same wry smile as his brother.

“I’d rather run or punch something” Lorenzo had replied and Marco had bitten his lips not to chuckle as he had put the painting in the case. His brother had closed the case and Marco had taken the painting into his hands like he did before, having taken another step towards the table.

The velvet blanket had still lied untouched like before but he could make out the impression where the original had been before.  
Perfect.

“And there we go” he had whispered after taking a step back, having admired his work, wallowing in the thought of being a true master thief like they were in the movies, books and legends.

“Oi, look!” Lorenzo had interrupted him, having held up – two cases. As identical as the twins themselves.

“They had the same case?” Marco had said, having stepped closer and taken the one his brother had held out. It had been lighter than the other had been before, but aside from that, he really looked indistinguishable.

“I wonder if there is only one kind of official painting case in this world” Lorenzo had whispered and Marco had giggled:

“Official You-stole-a-painting-cases trademark.”

The both had kept on giggling, but Lorenzo’s “Only 12, 99 today!” had been drowned out by a continuous, high pitched beeping.

They had shared an alarmed, surprised look and without having to exchange a word, they had taken the cases under their arms and had sped to the door.

“You got the – “Marco whispered but Lorenzo had pulled the remote already and both had put their ears to the door.

No voices, no steps, only Marco’s heartbeat in his ears.

They had pulled the door open, Lorenzo having peeked out and pressed a few buttons on the remote.

They had waited, Marco having looked expectantly at his brother.

He had only shrugged and then disappeared into the hallway, Marco having kicked the door shut – tried to, at least. The heavy door had been less than impressed, much unlike Marco’s ankle and the Sicilian had had half a mind to kick it harder that the loud bang would have resounded throughout the entire hallway.

Instead he leant against it with his shoulder, having sprinted over to his brother once it had been closed.

Just as Lorenzo had taken care of the next camera – at least he had pressed the same buttons as Michele had done before – someone turned into the hallway they had planned to use as escape route.

“Oh my god Matilde, it’s just a room full of stupid paintings! Paintings that have survived centuries without being in an insulated room, nothing will destroy them now!”

“It beeped! I heard it beep!”

“Then go and annoy Acerbi with it! Go on and tell your idol that someone might have breathed to long in the general direction of her beloved paintings! Do you even listen to yourself, Matilde? Do – “

“Do you? Do you?!”

Matilde’s voice had needed a few starts before she could make the other woman listen: “You treat everyone you don’t understand and who doesn’t likes the things you do like an idiot or a weirdo! You don’t treat them like … humans!”

The other woman hadn’t listened at all: “You know how you sound with all of this ‘Signorina is so cool! Signorina Acerbi is so nice and clever! And wow, she looks so good, so out of my league!’”

“I never said out of my league – “

“But that’s what it sounds like! It sounds so gay! Like a lesbian!”

The nasty laughter had been interrupted shortly after with the sound of a hard slap, skin against skin.

“Excuse you?!” the other woman had spoken up before, but Matilde’s scream was louder:

“Fuck you Kristin! Fuck you … you … “

She had sobbed and the twins had had to supress the overwhelming urge to cheer or to step out of the crammed, little room they had fled into and give Matilde a hug. And maybe slap Kristin again.

“You’re too sensitive – “

“I am not! I am not! And I don’t want to hear anything anymore from you! You faked being my friend for long enough!”

Nothing had followed but steps resounding loudly in the empty hallways, Kristin’s yelling too far away to make out what she said.

“Next time we’re meeting them” Lorenzo had whispered.

“Kristin is gonna get it” Marco had finished, both had grinned at each other and then gotten out of the closet, Lorenzo having taken care of both cameras before they stepped into the hallway where Kristin and Matilde had been.

They had known that there had been an fire escape at this side of the building, had made it to the staircase, down it and had heard someone opening the door they had closed behind them as Marco had thrown the cases over the fence to his brother.

And in panic, Marco had clutched at the fence that his knuckles had turned white.

_Get over it, get away, this is the right solution, run goddammit._

_You’ll make noise, they are guaranteed to notice you, maybe you’ll get away with it when you stand still._

_Oh boy, you’re hella fucked._

Muscles had started to tense up, to jump over this fence in two quick motions and to run through the little forest behind it, run to the next street and over it, run until there was nobody who would catch them anymore.

Someone had called whoever had been out there back inside. Something with “If the boss catches you smoking again, you lazy fuck are fired and you know it”.

Giggling, Marco had fallen down on the other side of the fence beside his brother, both having giggled, laughed, jumped as they went away.

Anything to get the adrenaline out before it began to shake their fingers.

Now they sat here and were too tired to voluntarily shake anything.

“If the Irish insulted Shorty, we could maybe be less pissed for their late return” Lorenzo mumbled and Marco tilted his head.

He couldn’t even nod anymore.

“But I am gonna be pissed at Charlie nonetheless” he said and Lorenzo laughed, Marco pulling the case at him. “Especially when it is his fault. Damn him.”

“You could go without him to the shops, maybe you run into the guys from last night.”

“I’d rather have Charlie with me …” Marco said, not realising he had done it out loud until he noticed his brother staring at him. “I mean, I’d still go alone, that was the plan from the start, I’d just …” He shrugged. “Really wouldn’t mind if he’d be there.”

“I wouldn’t mind if the guy and the girl from yesterday would be there” Lorenzo replied and Marco smiled and nodded.

He still remembered the guys and girls from yesterday, of course he did. A couple and their two friends, all four from Austria but only one girl had talked with a heavy accent. Her friends had been from Italian families who had immigrated to Austria.

And she had a wonderful deep laugh, a dirty humour and an interesting view to the world. Nice, truly.

But that was not what he wanted. He wanted to go through the shops she had made fun of last night, a faked Louis Vuitton bag on her lap.

“Yeah, I know it’s fake but who the fuck cares? I am not here for the quality. I just want people in the streets look and see my Louis Vuitton bag. My friends don’t care anyways, so why the fuck be stupid and buy one for an insane amount of money. Spinn’ ich denn, oder was?”

Am I crazy, that was what she had said in German, she had explained it.

No, the girl wouldn’t be good company for him today, but Charlie would. Yes, Charlie would be perfect company to stroll through Prada and Armani, just like he could be very pleasant company while sewing or talking about sewing. And when it came to talking about cars or traveling, even food, though none of the two really cared that much about the topic, leaving it to Lorenzo and Michele. But they … could talk very well with each other. Marco even liked listening to Charlie and while he did, looking at him, too. And looking at Charlie when the Irishman listened to him.

He let his head sink to the case, eyes still closed.

“Are you alright?” Lorenzo asked and Marco lifted his head, looking at him. Then nodding, smiling, saying “Sí.”

Lorenzo leant in to him, staring at his brother and Marco started to spill his thoughts immediately. This look had originated back then in their ate childhood and early teens and even though it wasn’t necessary most of the time anymore, it still had the same effect.

“I just thought about … Charlie.”

Lorenzo frowned and came even closer: “Why not think about the sweet girl and her guy instead?”

“I dunno, maybe because they can’t keep us apart” Marco muttered, looking away even when his brother grabbed his arm:

“Marco, I know that is kind of a big thing and impressive but seriously. I bet you a fiver that he wouldn’t be able to keep us apart if we acted the same towards him. He just knows that you like him. Really, no big deal.”

“Yeah, you’re right” Marco said. “I like him. And he likes … us.” He sighed once more, clenching his eyes shut.

_No big deal, he doesn’t care for you Marco. He doesn’t flirts with you Marco. He just wants to get it one with one twin. Which one? Well preferably the friendly one._

“If it’s Harry’s fault, he owes us a bottle of schnapps” Marco said, eyes on the street.

Lorenzo nodded: “And if it’s Charlie’s – “

_Then this stupidly nice idiot owes me a shopping trip._

“ – then he owes us a day without his annoying blabber.”

Marco smiled and nodded.

Of course his brother didn’t thought … the same as him.

Of … course.

“Marco, you’re really tired. Sure that you’re okay?”

_No._

“I’m tired.” He shrugged: “Aside from that it’s nothing.”

Lorenzo didn’t question it.


	7. Our Shadows

“You’re still outside?” Fabio asked and Francesco turned to him, smiling but the other carried on before he could reply: “Around _this_ season?”

Francesco chuckled, turning away from him: “Ignorance is bliss and I deliberately ignore that it’s fall. Besides, the weather isn’t that bad.”

“It looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Rain’s good for the plants.”

“But not for your hair.”

Francesco made a shocked face, fingers digging into the dark brown curls: “Oh my god, you’re right. Fabio, what about you?”

Fabio pursed his lips with a grin but eventually had to laugh, Francesco grinning and crossing his arms again, looking forwards to the gate.

“For real now, why are you still here?” Fabio asked with a cocked eyebrow but Francesco looked like he hadn’t heard it. Fabio knew better than that, though.

“To think” he finally said. “About a few things. Mainly them.”

“You weirdo honestly need some better hobbies” Dolcetto said, closing the door behind him and while Fabio turned to him, Francesco just snorted. “And flirting with obnoxious posers who have an ego as big as yours probably, is no hobby.”

“At least my ego’s not chipped away by one wrong look” he replied and Dolcetto glared at him, Francesco only returning a smirk.

“I am to be honest not quite sure what to think about this entire situation.” Fabio had stressed the last two words: “I don’t know what to expect from them.”

“To know that we’d need to know the persons themselves” Francesco replied. “You can only know which role one truly plays if you know who he is.”

“Bullshit” Dolcetto said. “Who the hell cares who those jerks are as long as we know in which position they play. As long as they don’t become a regular pain in the ass, I don’t care what makes them tick.”

Francesco and Fabio shared a look, then both shifting theirs to the younger man.

“Football terms” Fabio said.

“Who knew” Francesco said and Dolcetto furrowed his eyebrows even more:

“Don’t get hung up on fucking wording and pay attention to what I actually said.”

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer” Francesco replied and Fabio frowned. Francesco still found it too funny how angry he looked when he was just thinking.

“I just don’t like not knowing _either_ ” Fabio then said. “I don’t know what their position is nor who they are. At least one would be good, though the position is much more interesting right now.”

“ ’Interesting’ ” Francesco said and snorted again. “Overall, of course. But what’s more interesting than people?”

“Literally everything” Dolcetto said. “Even the white walls of my flat, at least those don’t piss me off.”

“Are you sure they couldn’t, what is there that doesn’t tick you off” Fabio said rushed under his breath, Francesco trying his best not to laugh but Dolcetto had heard the older one anyways. And yet did nothing more but glare at the Milanese.

“Let us in on it, what did they say to you that pissed you off so much” Francesco asked Dolcetto. “Usually people have to at least interact with you to get you worked up about them. _Usually_ ” he added.

“You have seen how they behaved, but apparently nobody except for me and Lovino has enough sense to call them out on it.”

“I actually think there have been more pressing matters than flirts and bad jokes” Francesco replied after a short pause, still smiling but the emotion in his voice didn’t want to match. He carried on like before though, looking at Dolcetto: “And now come on, at least tell us which ones they cracked.”

“It’s not important” the Venetian replied slowly, a death stare directed at Francesco who screwed his nose up before looking away again:

“And I thought you could be so nice and make me laugh for once.”

“There’s nothing funny about those insults.”

“Have they at least been creative?”

“There is nothing creative about the stupid ‘How’s the weather down there’ joke.”

Francesco quickly turned his head with a big grin on it to him: “Wait, did the big guy said that?”

“Yes, stop grin – “

Francesco burst into laughter, decent enough to turn his head that he wouldn’t laugh the other in the face.

Dolcetto grabbed his ear, pulling him down that Francesco let out an “ow!” but didn’t stop laughing:

“Five centimetres, Franci, five fucking centimetres.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be so pissed, he was just genuinely asking for information!” Francesco said, Dolcetto still not letting go of his ear. Not that the Neapolitan stopped laughing: “Small talk! He just wanted to make small talk about the weather!”

“If I cripple your legs there won’t be five centimetres of height difference anymore” Dolcetto hissed and Francesco grabbed his shoulder, taking a deep breath:

“Hey, no need to threaten with for bodily harm. Easy, little guy, it’s all just fun.”

Dolcetto pulled harder at this ear that Francesco hissed in pain, grabbing his wrist:

“It’s making fun of me!”

He finally let go and so did Francesco of his wrist, hand quickly covering his ear instead.

“Calm down Dolcetto, you should know by now that no one here treats you like trash because of your height. And no need to violate my ear, I _know_ you can do that.”

“You want an apology you’re not gonna get, Franci” he said and Francesco cocked an eyebrow:

“Dolcetto, I am sorry if it looked like I was making fun of you as well, but really. Honestly telling me to stop works better than hurting me.”

“As if” the Venetian replied, Fabio joining the conversation again:

“To tell someone to stop should be the first reaction before any kind of attack, though. Especially when it comes to friends.”

“You have said that the past two years, don’t you get tired of it?” Francesco grinned and Fabio looked down on Dolcetto again:

“Like hell.”

As Fabio looked away again, Dolcetto leant over to Francesco:

“Sorry for that.”

“Thank you” Francesco replied smiling as the door opened behind them, almost hitting Dolcetto’s back.

An older woman stepped out, her black leather jacket open and a displeased look on her face:

“This is bullshit, no one in this entire fucking company you can ponce cigarettes off” she cursed and Fabio cocked an eyebrow again, yet still smiling faintly:

“Signora Masi? Didn’t you quit smoking two years ago?” He asked her.

She had looked through her pockets, probably for the tenth time today, as she heard it. Sliding her hand into her jeans pocket, she pulled the crinkled package of nicotine gum out and held it under his nose:

“Do you know how tired you get of chewing this bullcrap? I need something stronger to calm down anyways” she said, stuffing the gum back in her pocket, only to pull it out again and popping two pieces of gum: “Fuck, I am glad that this old geezer is gone.”

The three men shared a confused look while Masi looked straight forwards to the gate, chewing on the gum. Francesco was the one to turn to her, still sounding and looking puzzled:

“You mean O’Neill? Signora Masi, I believe he was your age actually.”

She turned to him, stopping to chew madly: “I am talking about Salvatore.”

Francesco frowned slightly: “Salvatore?”

“The lighting in there is pretty shitty, but that’s not the reason Vento’s eyes looked so brown. That’s heritage shining through. His pretty façade got cracks. Oh, but speaking of that, Michele is definitely prettier than him.” She had grinned, laughed shortly and then shrugged: “But who knew how Salvatore looked at his age.”

“Salvatore was his father” Dolcetto muttered more or less to himself, but Masi had heard it. She yet only turned to him after the first sentence:

“Mhm, and a nasty guy through and through. No one in his right mind wants to be affiliated to this guy, not even his son. But you can’t deny heritage and you can’t deny home, the least a broken home.” She looked around the three: “Does any of you smoke?”

They shook their head, Francesco said “Used to” and Masi let out a “Tsk”, turning around: “Young people these days! Don’t even smoke anymore!”

She apparently thought of the conversation as finished and pulled the door open, leaving inside.

The three stood there in silence until Dolcetto abruptly and without a word turned back and went inside as well, hurrying down the corridors until he spotted her again.

“Signora Masi” he called and she stopped, turning around with a frown: “I’d like to hear more about Salvatore.”

“What for, boy?” She grinned: “I can’t tell you much anyways, I actually haven’t met him often. Just enough to know what he looks like, but how could I forget with his son! Michele is a good looking carbon copy of this vile old geezer! Except for the eyes!”

“Yes, apparently they were brown” Dolcetto said uninterested but before he could get another word in, Masi carried on:

“If nothing was beautiful anymore about this man, his deer brown eyes were definitely. Even though they scared me shitless whenever I had to see them up close.” She shuddered in disgust: “Even thinking about how he sat there just a while ago brings memories back. Uwah!” She shuddered again.

“Signora Masi” Dolcetto said firmly. “Could you please tell me more about who this man was?”

“Didn’t you know?” She looked genuinely surprised. “You knew – “

“I knew that he was Michele’s father, I have heard about what the Vargas talk about him. But I’d like to know more.”

“What for, boy?” Masi asked yet again and Dolcetto pursed his lips. “Seriously, he’s dead and better stays it. Even though he’s apparently not good at it.”

“Because of Michele. You made me curious, okay Signora Masi? I want to know what’s it that you call Salvatore.”

“What’s it that I …”

“I really don’t believe in anything even remotely supernatural and that was clearly Michele all the time sitting there, but I believe you when you say that he acted like his dad.”

“He looked like him, too. That’s – “

“That was bad lighting, like you said. Eyes change colour all the time depending on surroundings, really. But I trust you when you said that he behaves like his father and for that, I’d like to know more about him. You know …” He pursed his lips again, closed his eyes for a second before carrying on: “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

She looked at him sceptical for a second, then started to laugh and started chewing on her gum again:

“Well, in that case I can’t really serve you with information. I have only been here for fifteen years and Salvatore died eight ago. And it’s not like it is with you, two years here and already the boss’ right hand. But maybe I wasn’t ruthless enough, huh?”

“Maybe” Dolcetto gave back: “So you really can’t tell me anything about him?”

“I wasn’t important enough to be around such a big fish from the start. I was a woman after all.” She bristled angrily. “So no, not more than the Vargas already know from everyone else and have very probably told you already.”

“Except for that he had beautiful brown eyes” Dolcetto muttered to himself, tone matching his displeased expression.”

Masi shrugged and smiled: “Look at it like an adventure and find something out for yourself, boy. Shouldn’t be that much of a problem for somebody who made it to the top in just a year.”

Chewing on her gum, she turned into the next corridor and Dolcetto turned around the way he came.

Fabio looked upwards as the first drops came down: “I knew it was going to rain.”

Francesco stared at the grey sky as well, blue eyes as dirty and washed out as the clouds: “Salvatore … Do you think people or their presence can still be within this reality after their death?”

“Honestly, no, and the way how superstitious Febe made it sound in the beginning, is really not my cup of tea. But yes, you can’t deny heritage and sometimes you just inherited a few, undeniable traits that show whose blood runs through your veins.” Fabio ran his hand over his head: “I mean, as much as I’d like to get rid of it, I sometimes do sound like my mother. That’s just how we are and if Febe thinks being this assertive is something Michele has in common with his father, who am I to say no? It really doesn’t surprise me.” He adjusted his suit jacket, looking at the other: “I am going back. Are you coming with me?”

“Later” Francesco replied. Automatically. Without paying attention to the other.

“Don’t catch a cold, Franci.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Fabio looked at him for a few more seconds before he opened the door, closing it quietly behind him.

The lighting was indeed shitty in the office. Golden eyes could look brown in bad lighting. They did when there was not enough light shed onto them.

“That’s literally your dark side showing, huh Michele” he muttered as the raindrops slowly fell onto his face. “That simply can’t be a good omen for you, buddy.”

The rain intensified but Francesco didn’t notice it, shutting his eyes anyways to concentrate on the storm in his head.

 _Hidden personalities passed onto you, learnt behaviour, adaption to your surroundings, mirroring behaviour, reflecting it, showing it, visualisation of yourself without even knowing it, character is just a combination of thoughts and instinct, reflex, character isn’t necessarily something hidden, it shows in every action, it even shows through not showing, the lack of traits, ticks, actions is just as much_ “information as showing it, ah goddammit my thoughts are running around in circles.” he said to himself in Neapolitan. No, Francesco couldn’t hide his heritage as well, it lived on in every word spoken in the thick accent and whenever he talked to himself, it was in the dialect he grew up with.

Bits and pieces still ran through his head as he walked determined through the corridors, hands behind his back and eyes not on the people who crossed his path.

Most of them scurried through the corridors anyways, head hung low, or kept themselves straight upward with displeasure and anger about the situation.

Two kinds of people who didn’t pay attention to their surroundings due to the happenings. Francesco didn’t know to which one he belonged.

But he knew the person he needed in this moment when he saw them: “Feliciano! I need to have a talk with you!” he said upon spotting the younger Roman in the door to another room, having a talk with one of the guys in it. Even Feliciano’s light hearted tone couldn’t calm the other one down, apparently.

He turned to him: “Ah, sure! Did … did something happen?” Feliciano asked confused.

“No, not really” Francesco said with a fain grin, drawing out the _No_. “I am just trying to figure out those new players and I’d thought you’d like to listen.”

“New play – Oh, you mean the Irish! Sure!”

Feliciano ended the conversation with a “Let’s just hope the best for the future!” before giving Francesco his undivided attention: “Let’s go somewhere we can sit down then. Or will it not take long?”

“Probably could take a while” Francesco replied, still smiling as he followed his boss through the corridors, Feliciano greeting someone every now and then as well as knocking on doors and pulling them open.

“Well, there’s an old sofa in this one … But it looks old. Old and fancy, you know” he said with a frown and Francesco tried to look over his shoulder:

“But it also looks like it gathered dust … To be honest I have no idea if I have ever seen this room.”

Feliciano frowned and turned the light on: “Neither do I.” Now his look lightened up as well: “Well then! I guess nobody makes a fuss about us sitting here then!”

And with that he hopped onto the sofa, grimacing in pain as the cushions didn’t do their job but patted beside him. By the time Francesco had closed the door and made his way over, he was looking like a happy child, though. Once Francesco sat down, the look only intensified and the Neapolitan laughed:

“Don’t expect psychological wonders from me now, though. I don’t have a masterplan for how to deal with them. I just had a rush of thoughts and I need to talk about it with someone.”

“I don’t mind, I like your thought rushes!” Feliciano said. “And what’s there other than brainstorm we could do now? Even if we just get a vague clue, it’ll be helpful!”

Francesco couldn’t help it, put an arm around Feliciano and pulled him closer:

“Feli, beforehand, I am gonna tell you a secret” he said slowly, quietly and in a deep voice and he could feel Feliciano tensing up underneath his touch.

“Yeah?” he asked, just as slowly but curious.

“I am very glad to have you as my boss and wouldn’t love to do anything more than making sure a friend like you is safe.”

Feliciano relaxed, giggled and hit him gently: “Franci, that’s no secret! Now you got me all worked up for nothing!”

Francesco silently shook with laughter, trying his best not to laugh out loud. He was somehow afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop so instead kept the joy this man made him felt with his mere presence inside. Yet, he stopped shaking it as Feliciano wrapped his arms around him, tightly hugging the other man.

“Well, here comes my well-known fact: I am so happy you’re my friend and bodyguard. Honestly, I would have missed out on so much if I had never met you.”

Feliciano really liked hugging people and Francesco wondered how his boyfriend got him off at times. But maybe Ludwig didn’t mind it either; the usually stern German was very sweet and patient with Feliciano anyways.

“So, about the Irish” he said, no effort of breaking the hug but Feliciano ended it himself, sitting up straight and hands on his knees while Francesco started to gesture with his:

“Let’s start with O’Connel.” Feliciano nodded. “He got a short fuse, that was pretty obvious to me.”

“Like my brother.”

“Exactly! Like Lovino, he seems to get angry so easily but yet tries to hide it! He’s bad at it but he tries. Unlike Dolco, but that’s a topic for another time.”

Feliciano sighed: “Yeah”, and Francesco smiled forcedly before carrying on:

“The entire trying to hide it tells me he’s determined, stubborn. Definitely suits his opinion on independency – which he obviously shares with Michele.”

“Right.” Feliciano nodded, Francesco remembering not too long ago.

_“I also noticed that you two have the same stupid point of view when it comes to freedom” Lovino said._

_“The right one” Michele replied._

“Which leads me to that I don’t think he’s Michele’s pet, actually. It wouldn’t suit him to mistreat someone who is so obviously on his side anyways. Unless, of course, this would get in the way of Michele’s plans. But do we know what is plans with him are? They seem to get along very well as people and not business partners, for that matter.”

“Veeery well” Feliciano said and smiling, Francesco chuckled:

“Exactly. Anything you noticed?”

Feliciano tilted his head away from Francesco. “I don’t know” he finally answered. “We’ve only known him for a few hours. All I can add is that he has fun standing up for himself, to give the other as good as he gets.”

“He is definitely cocky, another thing in common with Lovino, Michele even.” Francesco looked at Feliciano: “Next one?”

“His friend who liked you so much” Feliciano grinned and Francesco chuckled once more:

“Higgins was his name, if I remember right.”

Feliciano gently elbowed him in the side, voice sounding pretended offended: “Shame on you, Franci! At least have the decency to remember the name of who threw himself at you!”

He grinned but abruptly stopped, only that the smile could grow from ear to ear again: “No no no, he merely complimented me. Because I am pretty sure he likes one of the twins. Or they were speaking of another Marco.”

Feliciano’s eyes rolled upwards and he blinked a few times before turning to his bodyguard again:

“Did they mention Marco?”

“O’Connel said he would be going to tell Marco about it and Higgins reacted very offended. It was before Michele joined the picture, honestly I am amazed, too, that I still remember it. That have been a tough few hours.”

Feliciano was now resting his face in his hands: “Yeah. Not quite … nice.”

“But, speaking of that, he never really let anything get to him. He joked around quite a lot, didn’t he?”

“Just like you. You two would suit each other so well!” Francesco laughed and Feliciano giggled: “I meant it, okay?”

“Oh boy, I don’t think only Michele would hate me then – Lovino would dump me in the Tiber. Also, I don’t want to interfere with anything that is between him and any Marco out there!”

Feliciano giggled once more and Francesco carried on: “But he really … didn’t seem affected, he just jumped onto the train when it was necessary. He was … Above it all. Confident.” Francesco frowned and paused for a moment and while Feliciano had nodded at first, he curiously looked at the other.

“You know the more I think about it …” he finally replied, still with what Feliciano liked to call his ‘Socrates face’ on: “Confidence is the key word here. I can’t say much about the O’Neill but have you noticed how much Michele and Lovino tensed up when he interrupted them?”

“Well Franci, that’s kind of understandable, have you taken a look at this guy? He’s … big. And I am not talking about Ludwig big or Fabio big, he’s … actually really impressive.”

“But what did he say? How did he say it?” Francesco asked and Feliciano took a deep breath: “He didn’t said anything actually … mean or threatening. And he smiled during it. But he’s … Franci, this might sound stupid, but I look at him and he looks like those old men you’ll have to obey. Because they know what to do and tolerate no dissent.”

“Exactly! Of course you think that of him!” Feliciano blinked surprised at Francesco’s sudden enthusiasm and wild gesturing: “As I said, it’s because they all come across as so confident! Plus his frame, his age and his overall silence – It boils down to exactly what you said!”

Feliciano blinked a few more times: “But … you think that’s how he really is?”

“I … I actually have no clue. The other Irish didn’t react to him in such a manner at all, but then again Michele did.” He covered his mouth and threw his head from side to side and Feliciano giggled again, quickly covering his mouth as well to not interrupt his friend’s thought process. “There’s a good chance he is two faced. Even though he has showed us no face at all, it was how we perceived him. But that is the truth for now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Francesco looked at him: “It is what we gathered from him, from the behaviour of them all. So, until we get to see more of them, it’ll be true to us. It’s true to the moment we had with them.”

Feliciano tilted his head and frowned, his thoughtful look quickly turning into a puzzled one but Francesco shrugged: “It’s what we could gather from them in the last few hours and it is the only thing we have. What’s one true self anyways? Even if have a mask on, it is part of us. Every fake personality we acquire and develop over time is part of the big picture we are. Because behind who you hide says a lot about you. We’ll always hide ourselves behind another side of us.”

“Franci, I hear the words you say and I don’t like them” Feliciano gave back, sounding quite depressed and Francesco let his arms hang between his legs, trying to blow the curl which got into his face away:

“Neither do I, buddy.”   
  


* * *

 

Paddy sat next to Michele and Harry, acting as if those last hours had never happened. As if whatever had made him wonder about Michele had never happened.

“I think I am going go sick” Michele muttered, head leaning against the window.

“Michele, if you really get nauseous by sitting with your back to the engine, we can change places” Paddy offered for the third time but once again, Michele shook his head and sat up straight only to lean his head onto Harry’s shoulder:

“Don’t bother. Aw goddammit – “

“That’s uncomfortable, too, hm?” Harry asked, leaning his head onto Michele’s, wanting to kiss him on the hair so badly. The opportunity was lost however when Michele sat up straight for real this time. Not that Harry would have done it, startling Michele without any reason – and give the old lady sitting beneath them one to probably start hitting him with her bag. She had given the two of them disapproving glares since Harry had put his arm around Michele’s shoulder, but like hell would he take his arm away. After all, what did he care if some old frump thought of him and his boyfriend?

While Harry fondled with his tie for the god knew what time and the Sicilian said “Harry, if the tie bothers you, just take it off” for the god knew what time, Charlie sitting a little lower and behind them, found apparently another topic to discuss, now that the twins had been done telling how the coup went.

“Okay, but, I got curious – Who the fuck is Antonio?”

The twins raised an eyebrow: “You mean his boyfriend?”

The both made a gesture, just for a split second, but Charlie had to frown amused.

“Well, as far as I am informed, Antonio didn’t cheat on Lovino, neither did Lovino on him” Michele grinned, looking at them over his shoulder, the twins snorting and whispering to each other. “But they both surely lead each other by the nose. Lovino the Spaniard with his horrible temper and Antonio Lovino with his political power.”

"So that Antonio huh?" Paddy said and Michele turned to him, eyes widen in surprise. “Carriedo’s the last name, can’t remember the middle name, though. His father’s was Mártin.” He screwed his nose up: “It’s crazy what a fuss the men of this family make about their middle names.”

“Antonio doesn’t really” Michele said, making a longer pause. “I didn’t expect that.”

"We know the Carriedo Family. Long story not worth mentioning" Paddy gave back uninterested while Harry cocked an eyebrow:

"Oh, do we? I didn't know we do."

“Yeah old man, thanks for telling otherwise we would have made an ass out of ourselves when we met and didn’t knew him _anymore_ ” Charlie said, head tilted back to look upwards, even though he wasn’t sure if the older man could see him. He couldn’t.

Paddy sighed deeply: "Before your time, lads. We as in the company, Aaron, you know.”

"Then how do you know the son?" Michele spoke up again, yet his eyes had been fixed onto Paddy all the time.

"It was not that much before Harry's time though. Besides, Antonio is older than Harry, right?" Paddy said, crossing arms and leaning back in the seat that the worn out plastic crunched. The old man sighed but merely gritted his teeth when his head scratched against the bus roof. “Met him one or two times with his father and of course the name of the heir pops up at one point or another. And as I already said, this family is _nuts_ when it comes to heritage. His father was, at least.”

"As I already said as well, Antonio doesn’t really care anymore” Michele said distantly, ignoring Harry looking at him before he focused on the older one again. "Please tell me the story once, Patrick."

He shrugged: "We'll see."

“Will you tell it me and Charlie?” Harry asked with a smile and Paddy grinned:

“If you are interested in the most boring dinners of my life, then sure!”

He chuckled and Harry snorted, almost meeting Michele’s frown with a kiss on the cheek if the old lady hadn’t cleared her throat loudly as he leant in to the Sicilian.

“Someone needs a cough drop” Michele replied and giggled quietly with Harry, who added:

“And she should choke on it.” The Sicilian pursed his lips with a smile and looked down while Harry put some more space between them.

“Isn’t your arm getting tired, Harry?” Michele said quietly, still not facing him and the smile froze on Harry’s lips. Looking just as abashed as him he took it away from his shoulders:

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Sorry” Michele whispered into the awkward silence that ensued, Harry only shaking his head:

“Don’t be.”

“This society is just stupid” he added exhausted and Harry would have liked to hug him. Instead he started to tap his fingers on his knees while Michele scratched his hand.

“You’re damn right” Harry replied. “"And you don't make me feel like shit when they make you feel like shit. I know it has nothing to do with me.”

His boyfriend flashed him a smile and laughed, still looking on his hands but stopping to pick on them:

“Thank you.”

Harry looked down on Michele’s hands and thought about how nice it would be to hold them now. Instead he crossed his arms behind his head and stretched himself:

“No need to thank me because god knows, I understand you Michele.” He fumbled with his tie once more: “God knows I understand you.” He threw a swift look into the old lady’s direction, returning her stare with an equally annoyed expression and kept fumbling with his tie: “It is highly probable that I am just too stubborn for my own good. As always.”

Michele chuckled and leant in to him once Harry gave up on the tie with a sigh:

“When we’re back in the hotel, I will rid you of that pesky tie. And a lot more” he whispered and Harry bit his lip to hold a laugh in.

“Society can suck it, eh?” he then replied when Michele was already turning to the window and Harry resisted to come close again; his reply was not worth making Michele uncomfortable again.

“Not only society will be sucking something then” Michele whispered in the Irish’s ear after abruptly leaning towards him again, then going back to watching what passed them outside.

“Eejit, don’t steal my bad innuendos!” Harry said with a smile and Michele laughed.

Paddy rested his face in his hand and couldn’t help smiling either.

“In love like second graders” he said.

Charlie curiously looked upward, wondering what was going on with the two when the twins stopped their whispering and spoke up again:

“So, what do you think about the rest of ‘em?” Lorenzo asked.

“Did you mock Shorty? Please tell me you mocked Shorty” Marco said and Charlie simply pointed upwards with a smile:

“The old man saw the opportunity and took it.”

The twins started to giggle again, it turned into laughter and they both turned their head upwards:

“Thank you Paddy!”

“We wish we could have been there!”

“What did I do?” Charlie heard the older man and involuntarily had to laugh as well.

“For taking care of Signore Acerbi in our absence!” the twins replied, Charlie adding:

“Told them you have been so nice and pointed out his size.”

The only reply was laughter from above, followed by a: “You’re welcome I suppose.”

They grinned and started to whisper again, Charlie wondering if there was a seat free next to Paddy. He started kneading his hands, not remembering when he had picked up that habit again; the last time he had done this was before unnerving events during Junior Cycle.

“Oi, and what about the rest?” Lorenzo asked once more.

“Yeah, what do you think of the rest of them?” Marco asked and Charlie cocked an eyebrow:

“Why so keen on my opinion?”

"He flirted with Belfari" Harry said with a grin, body halfway turn so he could see the twins and Michele hit his stomach:

"Harry! I know that this unbelievable, but he doesn’t deserve a punishment like that!"

The two now continued to whisper but were interrupted on the spot by Charlie:

“The fuck do I deserve punishment for? Did Belfari insult your mother or what’s up with him? Besides, I didn’t flirt!”

“Oh, as if!” Harry said, shortly looking down on his friend, who smirked:

“I merely appreciated his looks out loud.”

"He thinks Francesco cheats with his charms" Lorenzo explained with a grin, both Irish now looking at him.

"Yeah, like some witcher who enchanted everyone" Marco said with the same expression.

"Maybe he did sell his damn soul" Michele hissed, fingers closing around the seat’s backrest, and Harry laughed together with the twins before Lorenzo asked:

"And what fucking punishment is telling us that he flirted?”

“Since when do we care if Charlie flirted?" his brother added.

"When doesn't he?" they both said and Charlie blinked a few times, the smile gone immediately; instead a slight frown crept on his face, underlining his lost stare.

The second the twins went back to look at him, he let his head hang, sighed and kneaded his hands once more. Then he smiled: "I am repeating myself but who cares – I just said that he looks good. Seriously, am I the only one who doesn’t deny it?"

"Don't you dare!" Michele warned the twins, but they shrugged and nodded:

"Surely has no ugly body” Lorenzo agreed.

"And surely has no ugly face either" Marco said and suddenly, the two shared another look with a smile growing on their face before turning to the rest.

“You know what? I bet that naked” Lorenzo started and Michele’s fingers dug into the backrest.

“He looks like the greek and roman god statues” Marco finished and Michele muffled a scream, threw his hands up and turned around. Harry leant in to him and whispered something to Michele, loud enough for Charlie to hear:

“Darling, I’ve seen you naked and was struck as if I saw a god.”

Michele and Harry kept on whispering while Charlie gave his attention to the twins.

“At least you are sane.”

“I heard that Higgins!” The three giggled at Michele’s reaction, Charlie even believed to hear Paddy sigh.

“So, Lovino’s a hot tempered bitch, same goes for Shorty” Marco said.

“And Belfari is as beautiful as ever. What about the others?” Lorenzo said and Charlie lifted his hand:

“Hold up, I never said something about Acerbi, just that yes, we did mock him for you. Regardless of that – Oh yes, that guy needs to take a chill pill. Besides, what’s with his face? Still wondering how he didn’t get wrinkles yet due to all this frowning.”

“That’s because his face never changes” Lorenzo said.

“He’s the human version of grumpy cat, complete with all the bitch fits of a cat” Marco said.

“Or like those handbag dogs” Charlie said and chuckled quietly: “Not that his sister is any better.”

Now the twins frowned at him and Charlie cocked an eyebrow: “Not so keen on my opinion anymore when I don’t agree with you? Of course, she pulls a nicer face than her brother, but pissed off she’s as bad as him.”

“Still prettier than her brother” Marco said.

“Still better behaved than this little rat, too” Lorenzo said and Charlie shrugged:

“She didn’t hurt any of us, so yeah, definitely better behaved than her brother.” He straightened himself up: “Siblings aren’t carbon copies after all, but they do tend to share some characteristics and traits.” He looked upwards: “I know a pair like that.”

“No idea what you’re talking about” Harry replied and Charlie laughed as well as Paddy.

“Keep on denying it but you and Soph fell not far from the same tree” Charlie and Michele looked at his boyfriend with a smirk:

“I’d love to see that in person once.”

“Keep on dreaming, we talked about this Michele” Harry gave back and the Sicilian rolled his eyes, shoulders dropping:

“I know, Harry, and I don’t say anything against it. I am still curious.”

“Stop asking and we will surely end up together for long enough to satisfy your curiosity” Harry gave back, yet still turned away from him. And now it was Michele’s time to wish for some little more privacy so he could pull the other in a hug, maybe kiss the pale cheeks for an apology.

“Sorry for pressing the sore point, even if it was just a joke” he instead whispered. “I won’t ask anymore.”

“Michele, how can I introduce you to my family when I can’t even tell an honest ‘I love you’ yet?” Harry muttered back and Michele smiled, putting an arm around him:

“It’s fine, I understand you.”

“Michele, don’t do things that make you feel uncomfortable.”

“The only one who’s uncomfortable with this is this old frump” Michele gave back, stroking a streak of hair out of his boyfriend’s face. “Who is about to leave the bus at the next station.”

Harry quickly turned his head and Michele was right: The old lady had stood up, hand tight around her bag and eyes focused on the door. The Irish was tempted to call something after her when she left the bus but even cringed when she threw one last piercing stare in their direction.

“You’re supposed to be nice to old ladies, but no one ever mentioned old bitches” Harry hissed while Michele just cocked an eyebrow:

“I wonder if she would have spoken up if we would have went farther. Old grumps like her are usually pretty prone to voicing their opinion about the moral decline today.”

Charlie laughed beneath them, dramatically throwing his hands up and stressing his words: “ _Moral decline!_ Oh no, the ground will open and the devil themself rise to power because two men held hands!” He continued to chuckle: “Oh the _scandal!_ ”

“Their words, not mine” Michele replied and Charlie waved his hands:

“I am laughing about them, not you.” He took a deep breath once his laughter had died down: “Actually, it’s sad.”

“That’s why we laugh it away” Paddy said, a big smile on his face as well. “Otherwise, this life would be unbearable.”

“Damn right old man” Harry said, scooting a little closer to Michele who smiled and shortly caressed his arm. The Sicilian leant in to him and for a second, Harry expected a kiss:

“Don’t get to bold, though.”

“I won’t, you’re the one who put your arm around me” Harry replied and Michele sighed:

“True. Ah, once we’re back in the hotel – “

“Good point – When are we going to be back in the hotel?” Charlie interrupted him, looking upwards and Michele leant his head back clenching his eyes shut:

“Half an hour, an hour? Better settle for three quarters of an hour.”

Only a sigh came from Lorenzo, accompanied by scooting around in his seat, while Marco suddenly towered sad over the case in his lap.

“Great, can’t wait to sit around in the stupid hotel room for the rest of the weekend” Lorenzo growled and Marco threw a short look at Charlie, who opened his mouth but nothing followed.

“Guys, I also think it’s a pity that your fun fell victim to safety. I am thinking about leaving, today, too.” He frowned, look unfocused: “But I paid so much money for all of this …”

“It’s fine” Lorenzo growled. “You two do fun things and we bore ourselves to death.”

“Hey, I might would have liked to go out with Harry, too” Michele replied and the twins cocked an eyebrow:

“But the difference is that you two can have a great night without leaving the hotel” Marco replied. “What should me and Lorenzo do? I was actually really looking forward to tonight.”

“So did I” Charlie muttered into his hand while Michele cocked an eyebrow:

“Really? Read a book, watch a movie. You two have more than enough hobbies, too. One night you can’t leave won’t kill you.”

“Yes!” Lorenzo said, case pressed against him with his lower arms, gesturing with the rest: “Michele, I don’t want to sit in my damn hotel room and read a book when there are thousands of people outside I could chat up!”

“And thousands of romans! Who the hell wants that?” Michele replied, Lorenzo only immediately answering in Italian:

“And thousands of tourists! Thousands of tourists and a few chosen ones who have to pass on a little Sicilian charme!”

The conversation of the two carried on, earning some only second long looks from the few other passengers and quite confused longer ones from Harry and Paddy.

“I’m sorry” Charlie suddenly said, looking at Marco who frowned:

“What for?”

“That we can’t go tonight, that you and Lorenzo can’t go at all. I mean, it is kind of my fault. Ours, I mean.”

“Plans go wrong, nothing tragic about that” Marco replied. “You can still go, though.”

“I don’t want to. Unless if you want something from the shops, then I could go and look.”

Now Marco’s frown intensified: “That’s stupid; it’s fun to go through the shops, if I want something it is not so pressing and exclusive to this city.”

“And it’s stupid to go through the shops alone. Especially after I looked forward to spending time with you.” He pressed his hands together: “But maybe we can still save this and we could do something together in the hotel?”

Marco didn’t answer but simply looked at him, lips slightly parting over and over again as if he wanted to say something but in the same second didn’t knew what.

Charlie noticed how sweaty his hands had gotten from all the kneading.

“And what?” Marco could finally bring himself to say something. “There’s really not much interesting to do there. And even if, Lorenzo would very probably tag along. Right brother?”

“It’s not that I’d really mind that” Charlie replied, while Lorenzo blinked surprised at his brother, asking what he said in Italian. But as soon as this question was answered, he gave the Irish a morose look:

“I sooner rot in my room alone than having to listen to your bullshit waterfall more than I already do.”

“Bullshit waterfall” Charlie echoed slowly, pursing his lips. “That’s a new one.”

“I like it” Harry said and Charlie pointed upwards without turning his head:

“Keep it in mind.”

Lorenzo turned to Michele again, not without muttering something under his breath that Charlie could only catch half the sentence. He could only translate half of it, too, but one of the two words was definitely not nicer than what Lorenzo had said before.

“Well then Charlie, seems like a no” Marco said and Charlie shifted his attention back to him. “Not gonna torture my brother by either leaving him behind in the hotel room or making him join us.”

“Why don’t we just have dinner together and then make plans for the rest of the evening?” Michele interrupted them. “I think there is a lot to talk about concerning today anyways and I am sure it will be a lot easier to discuss in a relaxing atmosphere.”

“Work’s going to kill any relaxed atmosphere” Paddy said. “But Dinner together sounds good. I haven’t eaten something in hours.”  
  


* * *

 

“Bacon pancakes, bacon pancakes, too many bacon pancakes” Sophie muttered on her way back, arms full of leaves and a rumbling stomach underneath.

“Or jam. Or both together” she said to herself, slowing down her step when she came closer to the bus station around the corner. Maybe she should sit down a little now, just so her stomach would stop rebelling.

But just as she sat down she pulled a face. No matter how thick her trousers and her underwear was, the cold metal of the seat still gave her goose bumps and at the same time reminded her how cold her hands and face felt. She was just a few meters away from home and doubted that she really felt so bad that she’d puke before reaching her door. And it had been about more than three quarters of an hour since she left and _nobody_ would need that long to rake their front yard.

And even if, they would very probably freeze their arse off in the process and if Alby had waited for her the entire time, she could at least be happy about this.

Or maybe he did slip over a wet leaf and sprawled. Or forgot where he put his rake down and accidentally stepped on it, hitting himself like they always did in cartoons.

Suddenly, Soph shook her head over all those bad thoughts. Alby had just asked if he could help her. And what was so wrong with helping? They were neighbours after all …

But he had made her uncomfortable and didn’t seem to pick up on her ending a conversation. He also had invited her to come inside twice – and himself to come with Soph once. And now, Soph decided that it would not hurt a man over 30 with a girlfriend when his 17 year old neighbour would be curt with him. Simple as that.

And yet, she was relieved when she saw that he wasn’t in the front yard anymore, quickly hurrying to her door and slamming it shut afterwards, not caring, if she lost a few leaves along the way.

First problem of the day was solved, now she could worry all about the second one.

“I don’t even know if we have a cookery book or such a thing” she muttered as she put the leaves down on kitchen roll on the windowsills in the living room. As she grabbed another book to put it on top, a smile flit across her face:

“Of course we got some! Big fat cookery books!” She giggled: “Oh dad, you’d be so proud if you’d see that we finally use them for something else than pressing leaves.”

She put the last book down, looking down on her work with a smile. “I’m pretty sure you can see it. Oh, yeah, sorry for using your Irish Poem Collection to press leaves, but at least it sees the light of day like that again.” She hunkered down, the book right in front of her nose, and blew the last pieces of dust away. “See? Now it’s also nicely dust free again. As if it hadn’t rot here for the past four years.”

Ignoring the knot in her throat, she went into the pantry, looking over the shelves if there was a cooking book beneath the many manuals for kitchen helpers.

“Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put them up there?” she muttered angrily to herself. “Do you want the entire shelve to tag along when I only jump for one book?”

Her rhetorical question was answered when she did reach for one of the small books, and just two seconds later, the floor was littered with manuals and Soph had to resist the urge to kick them away or stamp on them.

Instead, with tears in the corners of her eyes, she grabbed the bobby pin that one manual took down when it hit her head, pinned the streak in her face behind her ear again and started collecting what she had just thrown on the floor. After a quick look into the book she grabbed, she slammed it on the next counter, leaving the pantry in a huff. All this unnecessary trouble for a book about different kinds of whiskey.

But her mood didn’t improve during the next half an hour when she looked around the entire house but could only find one cookery book – and not a single page about baking in it.

“Son of a …” Her complaint ended in a muffled scream and she put her head to the book’s cover. “Sorry dad” followed with a deep sigh. “I was really sure we had them still lying around the house. Maybe in the guest room but …” With another sigh, she put the book back in the drawer: “Then I would take all weekend to try and tidy that thing up. Internet, here I come.”

Just as her laptop booted, Soph thought about what kind of cake she could bake. Something easy, of course. But biscuits were pretty easy, too, and her and Harry had failed more than once.

“Muffins. Cupcakes!” she muttered to herself as she waited for her browser to open. Muffins were easy and even burnt muffins could be made pretty with a lot of frosting. On the other hand ... if you wanted to posh something up it could also backfire a lot. Soph was sure that her and frosting was the same with her and make up – it need a lot of time and/or routine, otherwise it would end up looking worse than it did before.

“Muffins, Cupcakes are just posh muffins anyways. Good ol’ muffins, who even said muffins had to dress up to be cool? We need a little more muffin love in this world” she kept her monologue up while scrolling through the recipes. And the further she went through the pages of the cook blog, the more curious she grew again. Of course, there were recipes that already looked so complicated that Soph decided that maybe there were also classes in the muffin world and some were more out of her league than David Tennant.

But just putting fruit into a muffin didn’t seem that more complicated and Soph couldn’t imagine yet, how this should go wrong. The proof was in the pudding after all.

“But not when you can’t put shit into the pudding …” she said after raiding the kitchen and pantry only to discover that they hadn’t any flour or baking powder, let alone any kind of fruit she could put into it. With a sigh, she dumped the rotten apples she found in the trash and went looking for her wallet, leaving the house again while making a voice recording for her brother – just in case Alby was around.

“Brother mine, we two need to mend our ways, because I am depressing myself when I look into our pantry. We don’t have flour, we don’t have baking soda, how dare you to let your boyfriend even in our house – I know you did Harry, whenever I was away, don’t deny it – when we don’t even have baking soda! … The fuck does baking soda actually do? Why do I need baking soda for baking, we never needed it for biscuits. Well, GWEN never did, we probably did need a lot we didn’t have. Ugh, I am gonna buy stuff now because I have to bake a cake for a school party I don’t want to bake cake for and I just hope that you don’t have any other pressing problems than me complaining about baking soda. And I hope same goes for Charlie and Paddy and … for your boyfriend I guess. …”

Soph shook her head after she sent it, deciding that she had more pressing problems than Harry’s secret lover. Baking soda for example.

“Miss O’Connel, is the world ending or why are you calling me?” Gwendolyn asked as Soph dialled her up and she grinned bashful:

“I am sorry if I am stealing your lunch break, Gwen – “

“No, it’s fine. You will have a reason after all, don’t you? I told you, you can always call me if you need something.” The loud noises in the background disappeared but her voice had an echo now: “Harry’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, and even if he would be there, I wouldn’t be able to ask him” Soph said, looking around and then deciding she would just walk to the next store.

“What’s it, my dear? Women Problems?”

“No, it’s about baking.”

“Ah!” Gwendolyn sounded amused. “This topic. The bane of existence for you two … Shall I come over and help some time?”

“No, I got this.”

“Are you sure, Sophie dear?”

“Gwen, why are you reminding me a little bit of Charlie now?”

“I learnt to keep my snide comments to myself, that’s something this boy still has to learn. Sometimes it’s just better to shut up and just think about your fantastic remarks.”

“The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Baking was the topic, Sophie, not how frightening much Charlie mirrors his young mother. Your mum would have a lot to say about this.”

Soph smiled and looked left and right before she crossed the street: “I am sure she would have … yeah, baking. What can go wrong when I want to bake muffins and what the frick is baking soda there for?”

“Baking soda? I have no idea why you’re asking but baking soda’s there for air in the cake. Like yeast.”

Soph stopped: “Air in the cake.”

“Well, I can’t really explain it but without soda and yeast, stuff is just going to taste unbearable dry. And Muffins for example are usually rather fluffy, right?”

“I know what you mean, yes.”

“See? That’s what baking soda is needed for. And things that can go wrong while baking muffins … actually nothing? Or everything but Sophie, dear, have some trust in yourself!”

“The trust in my baking skills went into the trash alongside with the burnt biscuits” Soph muttered but didn’t repeat herself as Gwendolyn asked what she said. “Nothing of importance Gwen. Well, if everything goes wrong I can still ask you, yes?”

“Of course Soph, and I’ll try to help. Except if your house burns down, in that please call 999 immediately and me only afterwards. But then I’ll bake you muffins.”

“I will appreciate it when I lie in the hospital, bandages all over my burnt body because I was too stupid to bake muffins.”

“Sophie, dear, look at it that way – your inability to bake would possibly be record breaking then! That’s almost a skill itself!”

“So much for I keep my snide comments to myself” Soph grinned. “But thanks for listening. I don’t want to steal your entire lunch break, so good bye.”

“I am always here to listen, Soph. Good bye and luck with the muffins!”

“Thank you.”

Soph looked down on her phone and wondered with what kind of problems Gwen had helped her mum. Surely never the same problems Soph had because then Gwen would have mentioned something like that. Or …

Gwen had been the best friend of her mother and of course your best friend told you different things than a family friend way younger than you. And even if, Gwen maybe thought that Soph would feel like a copy if she mentioned that she had just the same problems as her mother.

“Alright Sophie focus – You won’t die from curiosity if you don’t find out everything about your mum in the next days. But you will die from embarrassment if you don’t have cake for Monday. Set your priorities straight, okay? Okay.”

And with that she entered the supermarket, leaving her thoughts about who her mother was at the door.

Secretly she hoped they’d wander off and never came back again.


	8. Drop Down

The clack of heels filled the hallways once more; but like everything else in this company, it had toned down.

Even when only the sound was kept low. The determination behind it had been intensified, just as the emotions in all the people passing her didn’t want to match the whispering tone. There was anger in their voices that deserved to be roared out or disappointment only silence would satisfy.

Her lips curled into a weary smile when she turned into the empty hallway. Her thoughts made her remember reading so many old novels and plays throughout her youth as well as epics and legends; often to understand what had inspired the painter of a great work she admired.

There was no story but history behind her newest painting.

“Our accession” she muttered to herself, just to remind herself of what the painting really was.

Vargas property. _Not_ her toy.

Even though she sometimes couldn’t decide if Lovino and Feliciano bought some pieces of old art – didn’t matter in what form it came – because they trusted her on being well versed or because to rejoice her with a new object for her study she had told them so excitedly about.

She wondered how many great pieces of art she had missed by not going to a university, maybe becoming a curator or a restorer for a museum. But how many of the pictures in her storage had never seen a museum, had been lost for years or found before anyone else but the artist had seen them before? How lucky was she with her life right now compared to all that could have been?

“So they told me that you wanted to see the painting?” Gabriella had asked her brother, who had still stood beside the arm chair, eyes on the ground and lower jaw having moved nervously.

“Yeah” he had given back. “Guess so.”

“I can show it to you.” She had still smiled, had sat down on the armchair’s lean and had looked up at her little brother.

Now he had looked up – down – at her too, but his jaw had still slightly moved and the corners of Gabriella’s mouth had wanted to drop. “God, it’s just a _painting_. I don’t need your smartass comments to look at it.”

“I was … just offering you, you know?” Gabriella had replied and gotten up. “Since they said – “

“I didn’t ask for you” Dolcetto had snapped at her. “And who the hell cares what I said hours ago, who the fuck cares what they said?! Shit has changed over the last few hours, hasn’t it?”  
Gabriella took a deep breath but had restrained from looking her brother in the eyes as well as she had swallowed a reply and the emotion that went with it. Instead she had turned to the door and yet, despite having known that this conversation had been over before it started, had stopped for a moment: “I just thought I could help you.”

“Help me with what?”

Well Gabriella had known better than to ask, but hope couldn’t resist budding. She had left the office without one more word and yet, she still thought about it so vividly hours later.  
Gabriella shook her head, stroking her fringe out of her eyes before she stopped in front of the heavy door.

0012\. 4568. The satisfying sound of heavy bolts, which always did their best to protect the jewels behind them, slipping back and the heavy sound the door made when it slit over the floor.

The dimly lit light had made Gabriella often worry about her eyes but at the same time she would probably rather ruin her eyes than either spending less time with her paintings or let them suffer from bright light.

 _“Stubborn Rella”_ she heard a faint voice in the back of her head and smiled while walking over to her newest painting.

“And stubborn Vanna” she replied quietly to herself and the girl in her head grinned back.

Where was her childhood friend now? On the runways of this world as she had always dreamed of? Giovanna Terranova, a wanted model in her profession would have been all Vanna had ever dreamed of, worked for and what Gabriella had wished for her, too.

_“I wish, though, that you wouldn’t have become a runaway, Rella.”_

“I am not a runaway, I am the curator of my own little personal gallery, Vanna“ Gabriella sighed wearily, leaning down over the new painting. When she squinted her eyes, Vanna disappeared and other voices ran through her head.

“What’s so interesting that you first look for it for hours and then stare at it like this, huh Rella?” She would recognise this voice with its roman accent and cocky tone everywhere and anytime.

“The painting is not going walk away in the 30 minutes you give your eyes and the painting a rest. Enough ruining lighting for you two for now.” The deep voice firmly and yet gentle, just like the arms he had put around her. Gabriella smiled brightly at the memory before she put her mind back to the painting in front of her.

Il doxe, just like she had left him, together with the little boy on his knees. As she was grabbing her gloves, she didn’t took her look from the painting. The boy on had black, curled hair and Gabriella wondered for a second if he would have looked similar to Francesco or Dolcetto once he had grown up. Where had his life gone anyways? Was he the doge’s son or grandson? Was there another painting of this boy, who had already adopted his holder’s grim look?

She tilted her head, arms crossed in front of her chest.

She had only been able to throw one short, but thorough look at it when they had collected it and had examined it carefully when she had seen it just a few hours ago.

It could be that she was stressed and worn down, sad and angry even, from what had happened since then … but to her, the picture looked different this time. Of course, the colours still looked the same, the lines were in the right place, the expressions of the people unaltered.

Almost automatically, her fingers hovered over the frame, tracing the lines, which gave it such a simple and yet elegant design. On one of the metal frames was another wooden one, which had lilies and poppies in its composition and Gabriella had almost spend more time setting her wits to it than to the actual painting. She would place the frame of the doge painting next to it once this one was unframed. Carefully taking it between her fingertips, she turned the painting and froze in place.

There were little holes, four in number, in the backside of the frame. They were clearly drilled and Gabriella knew immediately what they were for – cardboard. Like every cheap frame sold in the stores nowadays had a little cardboard back, people often attached one to old frames like this as well to reduce the chance of damaging the painting from behind.

Gabriella had turned the painting and inquired all of its side the day they had collected it, the seller hadn’t mentioned anything about a piece of wooden board or cardboard either. The painting had gone lost in a time were people hadn’t thought of this method yet and even though it probably had went through many hands, the last owner had let it rot on an attic in times before cardboard had even been invented and someone who just let it get mouldy in their attic wouldn’t have bothered to protect it in any way.

Despair rose in her – _No no no this can’t be, I have seen the backside before, I have damned felt it and yet there are holes for a board here_ – and she flipped it over.

Everything was as she had left it, she had been sure of that. Had been.

She put her face close to the painting, her nose almost touching the canvas before she remembered that this might still be the original and no counterfeit. With slightly shaking finger she put it back on the table, made a step over the case on the ground –

Or thin air, since there was no case in sight, not even as she got quickly on her knees, eyes scanning under the table and then the rest of the room as well.

Her joints protested when she got back on her feet a little too fast, before she made her way over to the little cabinet with the equipment, pulling it open that the metal screeched a little. At least the flashlight and the magnifier had still been where she had left it and after she closed the drawer with a little more force than what was usually necessary, she went back to the painting and turned the flashlight on.

The colours looked brighter, but that meant nothing. This painting was still in a good condition, it had been when she first checked it as well. The furnishing of the room was still the same, the Doge and his boy weren’t damaged, the view from the window still showed the sea, little gondolas littered in it -

Gondolas. Yes, Gabriella could clearly see gondolas and not just gondola-shaped dashes of colour. Why was this so much more detailed than the other one? Did those fine lines – in the curtains, the table, the carpet, the gondolas – came from the fact that she had been tired, when she first checked the painting? Maybe this was this original --

“And I’m stupid? What am I thinking? I can’t have missed those holes two times!”

This was a counterfeit, a damn beautiful counterfeit and for a split second, Gabriella mourned that the original painting had been marred by time after all, before her fingers cramped around the magnifier.  
It was gone. Her painting with history behind it, even in its flaws, in the hand of some filthy Sicilian for some stupid game. And what would he do with his trophy? Let it rot away in a warehouse, sell it to some other idiot or the worst, just put it in his living room and damage it even more.

Gabriella hadn’t noticed how she had clenched her fists until her fingers began to hurt. Slowly, she put the magnifier on the table and the hands in front of her face, closing her eyes and turning around.

She had to tell the Vargas. It was her duty, anyways, since it was their property, the most logical thing was to tell them first.

And Gabriella knew she would be sympathized with her want to knock someone out with his own, cheap counterfeit.

The thought of Lovino just made her think of the last hours, of everything and Gabriella felt her stomach rumbling as if she was going to throw up all the anger inside. Her hands clenched not to shake before she squared and made one step forward. She was still stable and with each step she made towards the door, her anger grew more and more controlled. Instead of knotting together in her belly, it started to run through her veins and synapses, fuelling the processes.

She had a plan now and she had more than enough power behind it.

If only her hands would stop twitching.

Lovino was in his office again, she knew that, yet was tempted to get her phone out while hurrying through the floors. Every second gone by was another second the thief gained – by now Gabriella was not so sure it might not had been a traitor within the own lines as well and tried to keep every face in mind she came across. Just in case she’d need an alibi for someone and she kept up with it even when she simply wanted to run down the hallways, not caring for anyone but her boss who had to know. Had to know and do something.

“Ah, Rella!”

But she would have loved to hug Feliciano for appearing in the hallway right in frontof her and her heart would have skipped a beat if it wasn’t racing already:

“Feliciano! Feliciano, we’ve got a problem.”

“Huh, what happened?” The Roman asked, suddenly looking startled and Gabriella figured that she probably had pulled a not very friendly face, even though Francesco behind him didn’t blink an eye.

“They stole the painting. The new painting, they stole it and left a counterfeit” she explained and Feliciano blinked. “And yes, I am sure, I am even sure we have pictures of the original, you’d see it isn’t what we got now. And I am also sure that Vento’s behind it, who else?” She lowered her voice, still not giving the men a chance to get a word in: “Though I wouldn’t underestimate him having partners in our own lines.”

“Well then Gabriella, let’s go” Francesco said and flashed her a short smile.

“And you are really sure, Gabriella? I mean, we didn’t find anything” Feliciano asked and she stopped following Francesco, turning around:

“You can’t find anything in just a few hours in a building this big. But you can ascertain it in a relative short time when one small painting has holes in its frame that haven’t been there before.”

She noticed the calmness of her voice but why she didn’t know.

The last trace of doubt went from Feliciano’s face: “You’re right.”

“See?” Francesco asked amused, walking backwards now. “How could Lovino not trust Gabriella? And how could he not believe Michele’s the culprit?”

 

* * *

 

  
Charlie doubted the old man even saw the view behind the raindrops. But who knew? Maybe he had an eye for other things as well beside how nice the weather was. Charlie had goose bumps from the cold weather and not even the Vittoriano, floodlit in the background or the Italian chatter around him could help him relax.

“We are a bit early, it appears” Paddy said and Charlie looked up to the older man beside him. He was still looking over Rome’s roofs with a faint, content smile before turning to Charlie with the same expression.

“It’s about food and you’re not blaming the others for not being here already?” Charlie asked amused and Paddy laughed.

“Everyone needs a little time alone after such things as today. I’ll let them theirs. But you don’t seem to want any.”

“Old man, if you want to talk with me about anything, tell me.”

“Well, do you want to talk about anything?” Paddy asked. “You seem a little more than distracted lately.”

Charlie looked at the older man, his face not having changed one shade: “Old man, don’t pull that face or stop feigning ignorance.”

Paddy laughed again and took a deep breath. “It’s about Marco still, isn’t it.”

“Yes. And I see no need to discuss this because I have not more of an idea than what I told you all already.”

Paddy sighed and looked away: “Maybe me old, straight man isn’t the right go to guy for this.” The smile had fallen from his face, but not the calm look in his eyes.

“No one is” Charlie said, grinning sheepishly. He gently hit the other with his elbow: “Don’t worry, Paddy, if there is something to talk about, I’ll get to back to you.”

“Or to someone else” Paddy replied. “Those kind of feelings are too complex and too confusing to not share it with someone else.”

“Easy, old man, it’s a schoolboy crush coming way too late” Charlie said and then buried his face in his hands. “And that’s all.”

“That’s true but do you remember how much those kind of crushes wore you down back then?” Paddy said and Charlie frowned amused, looking at the other. Then the old man had to grin himself again: “I may be old, but still young enough to remember my first loves with everything that comes with that.”

Charlie chuckled, looking to the entrance to the roof garden: “Of course. But I don’t see your point since I see no difference between a schoolboy getting lost in the thought of his darling or a grown man.”

“It hurts so much more when you are getting older.”

Charlie took a deep breath through his nose and the older one carried on, despite Charlie not facing him: “And it’s always those schoolboy crushes coming too late in the old love dramas. It’s always people behaving instinctively instead of reasonable in those stories.”

“I haven’t acted unreasonable yet.” Charlie had closed his eyes, head resting on his hand.

“That’s why I am saying to please talk to someone, if you even feel like it in the slightest. Don’t bottle it up until you do something stupid.”

Charlie laughed and turned back to him: “I don’t need to bottle it up to do something stupid.”

Paddy gently pushed his head away, smiling while he answered: “You have enough brains in this pretty head to not end up like stupid Romeo and Juliet; I’ll keep on believing that.”

“Talking about Romeo and Juliet, where are Harry and Michele?” Charlie grinned and looked to the entrance again. Paddy snorted again but this time heavily that Charlie looked at him in surprise.

“Probably still talking about today” Paddy said, looking over to the Vittoriano. “Romeo and Juliet …”

“Not the smoothest comparison, I admit. Even though their getting to know was full of drama as well.” Charlie laughed and Paddy looked in his direction:

“That’s right. And Romeo and Juliet could have played out if politics wouldn’t have played a role … Let’s just hope that for Harry and Michele.”

“You know that’s going to be hard” Charlie said with a smile and Paddy closed his eyes:

“Charlie, I know this when I don’t even want to know it. Leave the worries about that to the old man and don’t fuel them. Rather worry about your own problems.”

Paddy nodded towards the entrance and Charlie followed his look.

And goose bumps graced his skin once more when he spotted the Bontades, chatting and looking around.

“You have still not told him that you like him a little more than just friends?” Paddy asked quietly, raising his arm to show the twins where they were sitting.

“I told you that I haven’t done something stupid yet” Charlie replied half-heartedly as they made their way over.

“Oh boy” Paddy muttered and Charlie clenched his teeth – Only to stretch his lips into a bright grin when the twins were near:

“Hey, finally got around to come?”

“As you can see” Lorenzo gave back and sat down across of Paddy. Marco just immediately started talking with his brother again, as he sat down across of Charlie and the Irish had a hard time not to sigh.

“Harry and Michele?” Paddy asked as the waiter came over again, asking if they were complete now or wanted to order something nonetheless.

The twins shrugged before ordering wine:

“How should we know?” Lorenzo asked.

“We actually thought they’d already be here” Marco said.

“It’s already ten minutes past eight, if they don’t show up soon then it’s not even fashionable late anymore” Charlie said, eyes on his watch, and the twins chuckled.

“It’s normal to show up half an hour later” Lorenzo said.

“Punctuality is something for people who don’t have time” Marco added and had the others laughing.

“And if they wouldn’t have it, they could buy it” Paddy said quietly, looking out of the glass wall again.

“Or maybe they still need some time ‘relaxing’ after all the stress of today” Charlie mused, earning a groan from the twins. “Even though the view from here is more romantic than anything else.”

“It’s okay” Marco answered while the waiter arrived again. “I’ve seen way better.”

“Where?” Charlie asked with a grin and Marco put his wineglass out of the way, leaning in to the other:

“Castermula, on top of the Monte Tauro at night. It’s a small town in east Sicily, living off tourism. We walked around and around and around”, he chuckled but it didn’t kill the mood for Charlie, it only fascinated him more. “Around the fort. You see the hills with their forest, their plantations, their villages and ruins and afar, the Etna enthroning over them all. And you can see the sea, feel the wind while you hear the noises of the small restaurant below you and see Taormina lit up at your feet.” He grinned sheepishly: “It was beautiful.”

“I wish I could see that for myself” Charlie replied, hands pressed against his arm. “But who knows, maybe we’ll get there someday. With you as a guide, I can imagine that.”

Marco gave a short “Maybe” as answer and then looked on the table. Lorenzo was talking to Paddy about the skyline as well but Marco made no move to join their conversation.

And Charlie kept talking, just so he wouldn’t have to swallow loudly. Or to sigh or so his features would have the chance to look as desperate as his thoughts.

_I’m the Romeo to his Juliet. Damn no, they loved each other._

He involuntarily swallowed nonetheless.

_I’m the Basil to his Dorian._

“I’m sure it would compete with my view from the Eiffel tower on my class trip to Paris” he carried on and shrugged. “Maybe it was lacking something, but I couldn’t feel any of the promised, romantic magic.”

_But I am sure I’d feel it in Castermula with you. Or on the Eiffel tower. Or right here on this roof in midst of the eternal city. If you’d just -_

“Sorry for being late, we had talking to do!” Harry interrupted his thoughts and Charlie turned his head like the rest.

Harry and Michele were holding hands as they arrived and Charlie chuckled:

“If you want to sit with each other, I can get up –“

“Don’t bother, it’s fine” Harry said and squeezed Michele’s hand one last time before sitting down next to Charlie. He crossed his arms on the table, until he spotted the twin’s glasses and pointed on them:

“That’s on me. Everything tonight is on me.”

The twins cheered while Charlie and Paddy threw an amused look; only Michele frowned with a confused smile:

“Harry it’s a business trip.”

“If that what we do here would be what biz travels always are, I would have signed up for this job a good while earlier.” Despite Harry having whispered the first few words, Charlie had heard them and laughed now while Michele reached for Harry’s arm who willingly struck a hand out.

While the waiter handed menus out as well as taking orders from the Irish, Harry kept looking to Michele:

“And I fucked it up today, so everything’s on me!” He slammed his hand on the table again, grinning at the rest once more while Michele sighed:

“Harry …”

“Stop being worried, otherwise I’ll get over there and kiss you” Harry replied before turning to talk with the twins again, not noticing Michele cocking his eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t dare” he finally replied and Harry looked back at him with, cocking an eyebrow as well.

“How about we swap places though, Michele, then you don’t have to throw romantic tension over the entire table” Charlie asked and Michele looked at him.

“It’s probably for the better” he gave back and got up with Charlie.

As Harry leant back, one arm around the back rest of Michele’s chair, Charlie gave Marco a smile:

“I hope you don’t mind me sitting here? Sure we – “

“Whatever” was Marco’s answer, making his brother chuckle and Charlie shook his head as he sat down.

“Looking for something?” Harry asked when Charlie let his look wander around the roof garden.

“Not really” he replied.

_Just hoping I would find a damn Lord Wotton on who I could lay all the blame for the change in you, my beloved Dorian._

Charlie laughed and buried his face in his hands.

_I’d say this out loud and the old man would hit me. I **should** hit me._

“Are you alright?” Harry asked and Charlie smiled, nodding towards Marco.

“Probably tired, probably a bad day” was Harry’s reply and Charlie nodded again before chuckling once more.

“I’m still acting ridiculous” he replied before grabbing the menu: “But that’s fine, that’s okay for now, I should set my mind to other things. Like spending your hard-earned money.”

Harry grinned: “Knock yourself out.”

 

* * *

 

“You should stay out of those clothes” Harry said and slapped Michele’s arse while the Sicilian was gathering his clothes again in the walk in closet.

“You just showered, Harry” Michele said, picking at the towel around his hips that it fell to the ground. “If I stay out of those clothes, you’d have to shower again and we’d be even later.”

“I never said something about sex” Harry replied, getting into his pants. “You should just go in boxer briefs. I am sure I wouldn’t be the only one who likes the view.”

“Too chilly. For a city in the country, the weather here is surprisingly nasty. Nastier than at the sea side at times.” Michele kissed Harry on the cheek: “But you will get me out of those clothes soon enough again.”

“Hell yes” Harry said, turning the shirt around he wore yesterday before putting it on and buttoning it up: “I was almost worried I wouldn’t get something like last night anytime soon, after all what happened.”

“Harry would you stop that?” Michele sighed and adjusted his tie: “You didn’t cause the world to end. Who knows, maybe you even bought the two time. Point is, everything went well and I am not mad at you.”

“Even though you surely could have lived without seeing Lovino, huh?”

“I could live without Lovino’s entire existence” Michele buzzed and Harry snorted. Instead of leaving the walk in closet, he leant against the frame and watched Michele putting his blazer on.

“You’re really pissed at each other, huh?” Harry asked with a smile and his boyfriend laughed.

“I could tell you stories, I will tell you stories …” He swept over the sleeves, inspecting the underside.

“Am I allowed to ask what was with your parents?” Michele looked at him; both didn’t smile anymore. Michele still picked at his sleeve but it his moves had slowed down. It seemed like time had slowed down. “Or do I don’t go there, either.”

Michele looked away and picked at his fringe. “Maybe I’ll tell you about the Vargas later.” The change of his tone made Harry bite his lips. “For the rest … You have your family skeletons in the closet, I have mine.”

Michele went out of the closet without looking at Harry; instead he picked a hair tie from the bedside table and put it in in front of the next mirror.

Harry took a deep breath and sighed: “They’re not skeletons, Michele.”

Michele gave him a short look from the side, stacked with an emotionless “Of course.” As the other disappeared into the bathroom, Harry called after him:

“I am sorry for bringing up the topic.”

“It’s fine, just don’t press me on it. It’s not interesting for you anyways, it’s just something between me and the two.”

“Mhm” Harry said meeting him halfway when he came out of the bathroom. “Back to the here and now, you look stunning as always.”

“Thank you bello” Michele said with a grin and Harry couldn’t help himself, reaching out with his arms:

“May I touch the artwork or would I mess it up?”

“Nothing that couldn’t be fixed within two seconds afterwards” Michele replied, willingly letting himself being pulled into a hug and a kiss. Harry’s arms around his waist, Michele put his hands in between them, one of them slowly sliding upwards and ending up on Harry’s cheek.

Turning his head and slowly nibbling at his lower lip, Michele felt heat unfurl in his entire body. He put both arms around Harry’s neck, feeling the Irish’s tongue playing with his while his hands pressed against Michele’s lower back.

But suddenly Harry pulled away and Michele blinked once while Harry bit his lip with a grin.

Dammit. Michele wanted to bite that lip as well again.

“I might got a little carried away” the Irish said but Michele only came close again:

“Performance art, bello. We’ve got time for one more kiss, don’t we?”

“I bet we have” Harry gave back and cupped Michele’s face, pressing another kiss to his mouth. Now it was Michele’s turn to run his hands over Harry’s backside and Harry’s to dig his fingers into the Sicilian’s thick, brown hair.

And the longer – split seconds, seconds or minutes? – Michele let his hands wander, the more pressure he put onto the other’s lips and the harder his fingers dug into the fabric, wishing there would be none in between him and the pale skin. Just like it had been last night. Last night, when they had have sex, had gone all the way for the first time and Michele remembered the feeling of sweaty skin against his own, Harry’s lips pressing against his neck as he moved his hips on top of his own –

And suddenly, the weight of the day fell from him. Today hadn’t happened and Harry hadn’t brought up this nasty topic again, Lovino hadn’t, no one had even reminded him in the slightest of his skeleton.

_And you think you can get away with this, you little fag?_

“Oh fuck” Harry said the moment Michele’s eyes flew wide open and this time both pulled back, but nothing was said for a while. Michele had almost untucked Harry’s shirt and he knew that his own hair had to look awful.

“I’m sorry Harry, I’ll put myself together again – “

“Michele.” Harry started to chew on his lower lip before he hastily added: “Yes of course. It’s just …”

Harry sighed, over and over again while he looked for words, until Michele looked away and waved:

“It’s fine, Harry. I’ll just do my hair again and you tuck your shirt in again. And then we should go anyway.”

“Michele, I really need to tell you … what fucked me up, just now.”

“I am back in less than a minute, you can sort your thoughts in the meantime.” Michele leant in to kiss him on the cheek but then only grabbed his hand and squeezed it with a smile: “I’ll listen.”

“Alright mate” Harry answered and started tucking his shirt in again.

Just when Michele turned the lights out in the bathroom, he caught one last look in the mirror over his shoulder.

How shitty his eyes looked in the bad lighting and how it made the room feel cold that a shiver ran down his spine.

Harry was leaning in the doorway to the little lobby the suite had and turned around when he heard Michele coming.

The Sicilian smiled at him before walking past him and sitting down on the armrest of the couch:

“So Harry, you finally found a way to put it in words?”

“No. Forget it” Harry replied and walked over, leaning down to him. “Today was just a little too much and somehow nasty thoughts sneaked into my head.”

Michele smiled: “Into mine, too.”

Harry came even closer, cupping Michele’s face:

“Too bloody bad, just when I was enjoying it.” He gave Michele a kiss: “Your hands felt so nice – “

“Harry.”

“Yes?” Their faces were barely separated and Michele could hear his breath as well as feel it.

“Forget it” he replied and kissed him again, pulling his hands away. Instead he wrapped his arms around Harry: “Get down here.”

Just a second later, the two of them fell onto the couch with a bang and Harry’s hand was back at Michele’s face, the other sliding to his chest. Knees bent, he just made it easier for the Sicilian to cup his arse, pushing it and fingers digging into it, the smooth fabric of the jeans burning under his nails.

Michele pleasantly noticed how warm the skin underneath the shirt was when he tried to slip his hands into the back of his pants. Or maybe he should just unbutton Harry’s jeans already, then they could –

The dinner.

Just when he remembered that and wanted to get bolt upright, Harry groaned frustrated, burying his face at Michele’s neck.

“Michele I’m sorry.” Michele smiled and caressed his back while Harry carried on: “The skeletons are knocking from the inside of the closet.” He laughed and shifted his head so he could face Michele: “That reminds me, I probably still carry Doctor Sleep with me. I finished this thing already.”

Michele chuckled, caressing his cheek: “You’ve got such a cute smile. Sorry, but I hope the skeletons don’t take that from me. You want to talk about it now?”

Harry smiled at him as well: “Let me just smile my cute smile for now - Oh fuck we are already more than late.”

He tried to get off the way he came, but when his knees just didn’t want to go over the armrest, he just let himself fall from the couch.

Michele had propped up himself on his elbows, laughing at the other got up from the carpet:

“You’re such a dork, Harry.”

“I am time efficient!” Harry replied and Michele let himself fall back on the couch again, still laughing. The other chuckled as well: “Get up, we’re late already.”

Michele sat up when Harry was grabbing the key to the suite:

“One minute more or less doesn’t matter now. And Harry, at least tuck your shirt in _again_ ” he said with a frown and Harry threw him an unnerved look:  
  
“Was I the one who untucked it _again?_ ” While he fixed his shirt he cursed: “The others are gonna bawl us out … You know what? To make a little amend, I am going to pay for Dinner tonight.”

“Harry, stop talking about how horrible you are today” Michele sighed, tightening his hair tie. “What happened worries you enough alone already.”

Harry put his wallet from the couch table into his pocket and sighed: “I promise you, someday we’ll talk about this.”

Michele smiled: “Of course.”

_Some day when the skeleton is nothing but dust anymore. But if I tell you now, this old zombie is just gonna bite you._


	9. Unfair Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Your hand! My knife! Your heart! My life!  
>  There's no wrong! Or right!  
> When nothing's fair in love and war!_
> 
> \- Three Days Grace

Lovino remembered the Asterix comics where Cleopatra always threw people to the crocodiles. He had half a mind to do something like this as well right now.

“We went through the footage Fabbri missed or which he precisely didn’t miss”, Tivoli said and crossed his arms: “You can practically trace their way through the building and they also have been to the gallery.” His already displeased face darkened a notch: “We would have caught them if he wouldn’t have been sleeping! We would have found out about this already if this traitorous son of a whore wouldn’t have been lying about sleeping!”

Gabriella dug her nails into her palm and took in a deep breath while Lovino broke the pencil in his hand on accident.

“Be careful brother”, Feliciano said and Lovino almost threw the pencil in this direction. Instead, he started to break it down even further:

“Why should I be careful if nobody in this motherfucking company is?! He was here for SIX fucking hours and we didn’t notice shit! They sat here and made jokes and flirted and just casually REPLACED A DAMN PAINTING!”

“What shall we do now with Fabbri?”, Tivoli asked and almost cringed when Lovino looked at him with a deadly glare:

“The fuck do I want to think about what to do with incompetent morons now?! Just make sure he doesn’t get away or into my field of sight until I got my hands on Vento!” He turned the broken pencil in his hands: “I am not gonna waste my strength on idiots like him when all I want to spend it on is snapping Michele’s fucking neck!”

“Lovino, calm down”, Fabio said and Lovino gave him the same glare but it faded to nothing within a second. “I know that we are all upset about what happened but we should get our head free and think about the next logical step.”

Lovino swallowed and put the pencil down.

Only to pick it up the next second and cramp his fingers around it again.

“But what is the next logical step? They could be anywhere in Rome”, Feliciano said before Lovino could start to rant again.

“Or already be out of town”, Dolcetto added. Lovino couldn’t even see him at first, leaning against a wall in the shadows.

“We are still trying to get everyone, who left in the last few hours, back here but so far we haven’t found anyone suspicious”, Tivoli reported. „Or anything for that matter. We have no idea how they got here and how they went away.“

“Exactly what I want to hear, Tivoli”, Lovino hissed but then took a deep breath, rubbing his temples, careful not to touch his hair. “Just go on working, you’ve _got_ to find something.”

“Of course, Signore Vargas. I’ll report back when we have some result” Tivoli said and turned around, striding to the door.

It fell shut behind him and silence fell over the room as well; as if everyone was anticipating the other to explode first instead of oneself.

And the tension didn’t get resolved when Lovino spoke up in a calm voice:

“You know what upsets me the most?”

He didn’t sound frustrated; he sounded disappointed. As he shoved his fringe out of his face, his look matched the tone: “That he planned this. He wanted it this way and it worked. He made a fool out of me _in front of everyone!_ ”

The broken pencil found his way into his hands once more but he froze in place when Gabriella spoke up and chased the last whiffs of strain away:

“Lovino, you’ll end up with a splinter in your finger”, she said. “I know you don’t care right now – “

“About what, Gabriella?”, he asked.

“About splinters. About everything and while I can assure you I don’t want to care either, don’t hurt yourself over it. Just care enough for that.”

“Vento had a clear head and if ours are full of rage, we won’t get on his level”, Francesco said with a grin and stopped leaning against the desk, shuffling closer to Lovino as he carried on: “But if he is on cloud nine now because of his victory, we got an immense advantage now.” He leant down to Lovino: “The tables have turned, let’s make use of that.”

Lovino took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Gabriella took the pencil shards and threw them in the waste basket.

“Feli, Fabio, how long will it take to get a list of every single accommodation in Rome, including who is staying there right now?”, Lovino said and Fabio frowned while Feliciano leant his head back.

“An hour for a rough list, two for everything”, Feliciano said.

Fabio still frowned: “Feli, you’re optimistic.”

“Not if we put enough effort into it”, Feliciano replied with a smile, turning to Lovino: “Brother, in two hours you are sure to know every guest lists of every hotel in this city!”

“That is when we get to it now”, Fabio said but got cut off by Dolcetto:

“Well then let’s get to it, let’s _do something_ ”, he said and pushed himself off the wall.

“What’s our order”, Gabriella said, the question sounding like a demand.

Lovino could see both of the Acerbis and the picture in front of him made him clear his throat before he could talk again.

_They feel like soldiers ready for war._

“Well, Feli will need help with his research – What else could we take a look at?”

“Actually … not much”, Fabio answered after a while. “Only activating more of our informants around the city.”

“There you have your order, Rella”, Lovino said with a smile. “The Acerbis will go get in contact with our spies, Fabio and Feli will take care of the hotels. And you Francesco …”, he turned to the Neapolitan, who stood perfectly straight by now and looked down to him with a calm smile.

“Always at your service”, he said and Lovino took a deep breath.

“Help Tivoli with the interrogation and have a first talk with Fabbri. And after that you’ll go and help the others.” Only Fabio and Francesco heard what he muttered under his breath: “I could give you any task and it’d work.” He spoke up: “We don’t have time, do we? Come on, let’s start!”

Feliciano had already jumped from his chair at the “do we” and the Acerbis were at the door within a second.

“I’ll take that as a compliment”, Francesco whispered to Lovino with a smile but quickly followed Fabio, whose eyes were at the ceiling, not where he was going.

“I would also check the toll plazas around the city for foreign license plates but for that I’d need to get to the main office.” He squared: “So I can check them, if you don’t think of it as subsidiary, Boss.”

“You’d only loose time by going to the office, but you’re right, we shouldn’t forget about it”, Lovino replied, brows slightly screwed up in concentration. “Just call them.”

Feliciano’s voice came from the hallway: “Actually, I think it’d be the best for all of our tasks to go to the main office! I mean, we do have much better access to everything that involves communication. And if we do call, we won’t even lose time, besides, the Acerbis can make first calls from anywhere – “

“Then go with god, but go!”, Lovino shouted through the empty office.

A happy “Bye brother!” was what he got in return before the door fell completely shut.

“You … goddamn …”, Lovino muttered half-heartedly into the silence.

His anger went unheard. His motivation had went out with the others and suddenly he felt very small in his office – and caught himself thinking of what Michele was doing right now. Most certainly not sitting empowered in his shabby secondary office full of trash.

When did this room get so dusty and when did this fucking chair get so big?

Had he looked so ridiculous already when Michele and the Irish had been here? Maybe they didn’t even put on a farce because they looked right through Lovino’s, who was now fidgeting with the wooden cross around his neck.

_I feel like playing house. Playing around in Papa’s office and everything is too big for me._

He gasped after pulling a little too much at the necklace and while muttering curses under his breath, he got the cross out from under his shirt.

Barely as big as his thumb, it lay nicely on his hand and Lovino liked how it looked.

_“If I am no longer, I admit, I’d feel best if you get this, Lovino.”_

He couldn’t remember when he last took it off for longer than a few hours.

_“It’d be safe with you, I know that.”_

And it still looked as good as it had on day one. As it did on all the photos where his father was wearing it.

_“Just like Emanuela’s cross will be safe with Feli, one day, if he wants to wear it. And Feliciano will be as safe with you as my cross. Oh, but don’t pay too much attention to an old man blabbering, this is all in a far future.”_

Papa was no longer. All those things belonged to him. All this responsibility.

All this power.

He shoved his chair back and put the cross back under his shirt, adjusting his collar before grabbing the phone.

“Signore Vargas.”

“Signora Masi, I am going to join the rest in the main office. I want you to take everyone who isn’t busy – and not suspected – to take a look around the area.” He fixed his hair while he carried on: “There has got to be a trace of them and if it’s just the old lady who has no better hobbies than watching everything. It would be silly if we wouldn’t be able to find those three red-headed freaks when it’s all right under our nose.”

“Of course, Signore Vargas.” She sounded motivated: “A piece of cake for us.”

After he hung up, he took one last look in the reflecting metal of the telephone and couldn’t help to grin at himself.  


* * *

 

The dough had tasted good and Sophie counted that as success already.

“Why do people even bother baking when they could just eat dough?”, she talked to herself, lying in the living room and playing on her phone while Doctor Who ran in the background. “Sure, at one point it gets so sickening sweet that you want to throw up, but still.”

Soph wondered if she should shower because she was a) motivated and b) she probably still had muffin dough on her fingers and face.

She had put the muffins in just five minutes ago and even her longest showers didn’t last fifteen minutes.

While she washed her hair and played with her boobs, waiting for the shampoo to work, her thoughts wandered off again. Had she put her school uniform into the washing machine? Of course, there was still tomorrow to do it but maybe she did already and had forgotten about it? Or it was still on top of the mount doom on her clothes valet?

Wait, had she turned the TV off? She turned the shower off and listened, but heard nothing except for the buzzing of the oven.

Speaking of oven, she wondered how far along here leaves had come and if she should turn down the heater under them. Or maybe all the heaters since it didn’t had to be thrice as hot as it was outside.

“Nooo … no, not a good idea, nooot colder … Fffuck …”, she bubbled after stepping out of the shower and stumbling over to the coat hooks to grab her bath robe with shaking fingers. Quickly she brushed her hair, pinned the still wet streak behind her ear and wiped her feet one last time on a mat before going to the living room.

“Oh yes, toastyyy”, she said when she stood in front of the heat, bathrobe covered thighs pressing against the hot metal while her eyes wandered with a content smile over the row of books, lifting a first one carefully. Well, as carefully as you could lift an encyclopaedia – Part U to W, they never had another book of this series as long as she could remember. She and Harry had also asked their father why as long as she could remember but he never explained it to them. Only Paddy had once jokingly meant that her dad had wanted to look up a word with V and nothing else, but which word he never told and neither had Aaron. Soph and Harry had started to suspect every word that started with V; still did and Paddy still only grinned knowingly like he had used to; like Aaron had grinned with him. Old habits die hard after all.

The small leaves had started to dry and flatten already and with the smile on her face growing she realized that she could already take them to the storage room for further drying over the next days.

When she put the second book away, her eyes flit right back to it. It was a huge book, at least 6 centimetres thick but it had no sleeve anymore, nor was anything printed on his cover and Soph couldn’t remember what a book it was.

“Big and Basic Cookery Book for every household”, she read quietly what greeted her on the first side and squinted at it. So there was the book she had looked for when she –

“Fuck!”, she screamed into the silence, slamming the book back onto the leaves, causing both to hit the floor and she cringed, hurrying back a step but freezing and turning around again. Torn between hurrying into the kitchen and to put the things back on the windowsill, this little show went on for a few more seconds before she quickly collected the book and leaves, only for them to fall down once more and Soph pulled at her hair, gritting her teeth before she slowly put the things back one more time.

They stayed and Soph felt like just throwing them onto the floor once more and kick them across the room but she took a deep breath through her nose instead. She waited several seconds when breathing out and felt dizzy when she opened her eyes again, but on her way to the couch she remembered the muffins.

“Oh bloody hell”, she muttered and still a little wobbly on the legs she hurried into the kitchen.

Her fire alarm didn’t go off. I didn’t even go off when she opened the oven door, so that was something. But when she simply looked through the door she saw that her muffins were pitch black on the upper side. At least one of the cherries that stuck out of the dough looked fairly okay still and Soph was glad she hadn’t used blueberries; she liked cherries but she _loved_ blueberries. Blueberries wouldn’t have deserved such a treatment.

Contemplating if she should get them out but too lazy to grab a dishcloth, she closed the oven door with a resigned “Ah fuck it” and turned it off before going back to the living room. She tidied up the windowsill, carrying a few of the leaf staples into the guest room, noticing how dusty it had become again.

Of course it had been way dustier all the years before but she still remembered how Harry had cleaned it up a few days after he had been come home from Sicily, just blasting music and working for three hours straight.

And then napping on the freshly made bed for another two where she found him after she turned the still quietly playing music off.

She wandered back into the kitchen but then decided that she could also get dressed first and dry her hair and actually just let the muffins rot away in the oven until she made new ones.

But, with dry hair, new clothes and her school uniform in the washing machine – as well as the rest of the saint valet mount doom because she faced that she wouldn’t wear any of it again – she wanted to know how bad the muffins turned out.

Pulling them out of the oven, the first obstacle was getting them out of the baking tin to which they stuck even though Soph had used her own weights worth of butter to prevent just that. Eventually she got a knife, pulling a face at the sound of metal on metal but managed to get one muffin out. And now she could already see that while the rest wasn’t burnt it also wasn’t fluffy anymore. Not charcoal but wood briquettes at least, except for the cherries.

Dammit, Soph had hoped that if she fucked up she wouldn’t fuck up so much that she couldn’t even eat it herself. Maybe with a lot of whipped cream? Or …

A wicked but content grin grew on her face and she laughed quietly to herself before looking for a small container.

She almost fell the moment she stepped out of the house, twisting her legs when the cold air hit them but hurried through her garden and over to Alby, fingers clenched tightly around the container with the muffins.

Alby greeted her with a cocked eyebrow after he opened the door, checking her from head to toe: “Isn’t it a little cold for track bottoms?”

She gave him a wide smile: “I didn’t plan on staying long.”

He smiled back at her, taking a step to the side: “You can also come in – “

“No, I just wanted to give you those”, she answered, holding out the container that had a few dents in the lid. “I made muffins and those are left over. They are a little black on the top, but perfectly fine on the inside!”

“Oh why thank you”, Alby replied and she grinned even more:

“You can keep the container too, you know. But I have to go now, other things are still needing to be done!”

“Want some help with them?”, he asked when she had already turned heel and walked towards the gate. She didn’t even face him, only waved:

“Just enjoy your muffins, Alby.”

Only at the gate she stopped, sighing quietly as he said:

“I didn’t know that you played Gaelic Football for your school, Soph.”

Opening the gate, she looked at him with a smile while she walked over to her house:

“That’s my brother’s old pullover.” She pointed at her right chest where Harry’s name was embroidered: “He loved peil Ghaelach since dad took him to the first All-Ireland match.”

“Stealing your brother’s stuff while he is away is not a very polite thing to do”, Alby said while Soph closed her own gate behind her.

She swallowed before looking at him again; the forced smile having ceased: “And it is really not bloody polite to pester a young girl when your girlfriend isn’t there; no it’s never fucking polite. The muffins you have there are the only thing from me that is gonna get inside your house, so now stop asking”, she answered, taking the steps to her door.

“Soph, why are you – “, he started but she interrupted him with a glare:

“Because I feel uncomfortable, just accept that! I don’t want to be polite, I don’t have to be polite, I tried to be polite! And that pullover is a gift by my brother so you are really the only prick here!”

After she threw the door behind her back shut, she had to take a deep breath and swallow again. Then she pulled the pullover over her mouth but of course it didn’t smell like Harry anymore. Like Guinness and whisky and sweat and a whiff of men perfume, like a teenager who loved to play with friends and party with friends. Now it just smelt like fabric conditioner and with a sigh she put it down.

But Harry’s room smelt like him. Like sweat and old books and even older wood and faintly like Guinness and tea. Tea sounded good anyways so Soph went to the kitchen, passing the alarm system panel in the process.

_With just one tap I could make sure – Stop being so paranoid Soph, it’s just your neighbour. Harry installed this new thing to keep you safe from the real dangers._

She turned the system on before she left to make herself some tea.  


* * *

 

“Michele didn’t say a thing about doing stuff in the hotel.”

Marco didn’t look up from his magazine: “What’s your plan, brother.”

Lorenzo sat up and looked over to him: “I am going to the kitchen and steal their recipes.”

“So you did mean that you wanted to marry the steak.”

“And I am going to steal their equipment. All of it.”

Marco looked at him and grinned: “The entire kitchen?”

“The entire kitchen”, Lorenzo said with a nod and Marco laughed:

“Good idea. When do you think does the kitchen close?” He put his magazine aside as Lorenzo turned to sit on the edge of the bed, back arched and looking at his hands:

“We first go and ask Michele for the remote again, just in case. Then we take the picklock, no first we look for the master key, _then_ we try the picklock. Oh, we also need some big bags so we empty our suitcases – No wait, let’s do this tomorrow. So we first steal tools from the housekeeper, like a cutting torch, _then_ we break in, look what’s good, what I need – oh we should steal a bus beforehand – “

Somebody knocked at the door and both of them looked at it with an cocked eyebrow.

“Who’s there?”, Marco asked but received only a second knock.

“Oh come on”, Lorenzo growled and got up to open door.

Charlie had his hands in his suit pocket and clouded eyes when he raised his head to look at him:

“Hey. I wanted to talk with Marco.”

“I don’t want to”, Lorenzo replied, ready to throw the door shut but Charlie shoved himself in the door frame:

“It’s really important to me, please Lorenzo.”

“I am not talking to bastards who can’t tell me apart from my brother – What the fuck?”, he cursed as Charlie leant around the door to stare at his hand.

“Let me see your fingers”, Charlie asked and Lorenzo frowned even more.

“What for? Think you can keep us apart by our fingerprints?”, he asked and let go of the door to take one step forwards to push Charlie away. But the Irish didn’t make a move, didn’t stumble backwards; he only had eyes for Lorenzo’s hands.

“Look, I’m sick of your – “

“Nice try, Lorenzo”, the Irish said and now stepped back and stood up straight again – as straight as he could when every move of his was slightly wobbly. “But Marco doesn’t have scarred fingers. It took you a lot of practice to get versatile with knives, did it?”

“Piss off”, he replied but Charlie sighed, getting his hands out of his pockets, and stepped – jumped – back into the doorframe:

“I will if Marco tells me to piss off, just be so nice and ask him if he could talk to me, Lorenzo.”

The Sicilian glared at him for a little longer before spitting out a “Fine.” He paused for a second before adding: “But I’ll close the door nonetheless.”

“I won’t run away”, Charlie said and took a step back when Lorenzo closed the door.

“It’s Charlie”, Marco said as his brother came back and Lorenzo stopped, crossing his arms:

“Yeah and I think he’s tipsy.”

“He wants to talk to me, doesn’t he?”

“I can just go back to him and tell him to leave, really – “

“No, I want to talk to him.”

Lorenzo’s eyes widened in surprise but then he exhaled through the nose and shrugged his shoulders, his surprised stare at the ground: “Well, he’s still in front of the door. At least he wanted to stay there.”

“The only reason why he’d run away would be to trip himself down the stairs all the way to the ground floor”, Marco answered as he passed his brother and Lorenzo laughed. It faded, though, as he didn’t hear his brother laugh or see him grin at him before he left the room.

“So what’s – “, Marco asked but was put off when he saw Charlie chugging down the last few sips of a Guinness bottle.

“Shit”, was Charlie’s first reaction to Marco’s confused stare, followed by a burp and a “Sorry.”

“Don’t you think you had already enough at dinner?”, Marco asked and Charlie kept his look at the ground, hand with the bottle over his mouth. “Charlie – “

Charlie took his hand away and turned to Marco with a buoyant step, head bobbing from one side to the other: “It was three bottles and while I never thought German beer would taste that good, Guinness is the only thing that is truly satisfying for me –"  
  
“Charlie, why are you fucking trying to get wasted?”, Marco asked and Charlie shrugged, leaning his head back:

“It’s just four beer – “

“You had four more?!”, Marco asked aghast, but Charlie frowned and waved with his hand:  
  
“No, four with the three from dinner. Charming that you think of me as so hard-drinking, but – “

“Charlie, why the hell?”

“Calm down, I don’t plan on drinking any more. I just … wanted a little more … a little motivation before talking to you.” He leant in to Marco and the other could smell the beer on his breath: “Are you worried about me? Hey let me see your hands – “

“What? No!”, Marco said and grabbed Charlie by the shoulders to shove him away. But midway his power left, his arms didn’t want to go on, so he stood there with his hands on Charlie’s shoulders, hating the Irish’s cloudy eyes when he looked at him.

Charlie peered at his hands anyway:

“I don’t see any scars”, he said and Marco frowned, slightly shaking him:

“Charlie, go back to your room. What are you thinking, walking around like this in such a hotel.”

“Sorry, hey, I’m sorry”, he whispered. “But I am not going. I have to talk with you about … about a lot of things probably.”

“Charlie, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yes!”, Charlie gave back, suddenly grabbing his hands, so suddenly and unsteady that he lost the empty bottle.

“Ah fuck”, Charlie said and let go of Marco to pick it up and put it beside the door.

“Charlie, come on, you know yourself that you’re totally rattled”, Marco said but Charlie kneaded his hands and shook his head:

“Marco, I’ve delayed this talk already a little too long, if I’m not gonna talk about it now, I never will, and I’m tearing myself up with this.”

“Charlie, I’m not your – Charlie, I’m sorry, but what’s wrong? Shouldn’t you go to Harry or Paddy instead, I’m sure – “

“It’s not about them!” His mood shifted within split seconds: “No, I mean, I’m sorry, but they know already and they can’t help me. I’ve got to help myself.”

Marco leant in to him, afraid that the Irish would stumble and fall any second:

“And at what point do I come in, Charlie?”

Marco had never hated the colour of Charlie’s eyes so much, the thick, misty layer over this wonderful light blue:

“Why did you ignore me at dinner?”

"Pardon me?"

"Why did you -" Charlie started but then looked away, hands motioning as if he wanted to run through his hair.

Marco swallowed and opened his mouth a few times but the words didn't want to come out.

He didn't want to hear the answer.

"Charlie, why is it such a big thing that I was curt with you at dinner?”

Charlie covered his face with his hand, almost slapped himself:

“It’s not! It’s not a big thing at all! And yet it rips me to pieces!” He drew a hitched breath and put his hands down before looking Marco straight in the eyes: “Why are you not picking up the hints?”

His tone was a whisper and Marco hoped he had misheard the question.

Hoped that he misheard the tone, because no matter how cheesy his pain had been worded before, Charlie sounded heartbroken.

“Charlie, I’m sorry but I don’t understand”, he answered instead and Charlie blinked a few times before starting to blabber:

“I really thought I wasn’t too subtle with my hints, but when it comes to flirting I apparently go from 100 to 0.”

“Hints? Charlie, of course you flirted but … but that should have been hints for what?”, Marco asked and leant against the doorframe.

He would have loved the usual sassy grin on Charlie if only his eyes had joined it.

“Take a guess, Mister Bontade, what could it have been a hint for?”, Charlie asked and Marco snorted:

“That you’re a compliment whore, Signore Higgins?” he answered and even the slightest trace of joy slipped from the Irish’s face.

“Marco, I’m flirty, I don’t deny that. But there is a difference between a compliment and – “

“Oh Charlie, don’t make it more than it is”, Marco interrupted him. P _lease Charlie, stop feeding into my feelings._ “I noticed that you flirted with me, just like you do with the rest of the entire fucking world.”

“Marco, do you think anyone else could fuck me up like this? Compliments don’t mean attachment, but if I fall head over heels for someone, of course I am going to compliment them.”

“Well, who knows?”, Marco replied and threw his hands up: “Maybe I am the only one close to you? But when you’re still in the mood for it, why don’t you try and pull the confession bullshit with Belfari, it’s still the same city! Pull a Romeo and Juliet!”

“Wow, hey! You weren’t even there!”, Charlie replied, stepping closer to Marco and brows furrowed in anger. “And you shrugged it off all the time as the joke it was, why are mentioning Belfari _now_!?”

“Because I don’t know what else to say! Because he was the first one who came to mind!”, he said loudly. “Because I had to!”

“Because you had to, Marco, what’s wrong – “ Charlie asked, serious concern in his voice but Marco couldn’t stop himself:

“Everything! Charlie, I can’t believe you want to tell me you love me. Why me?! Why not Lorenzo? Are you just trying it with me because I am nice to you?!”

Even as he was talking, Marco could see the change in Charlie’s face; from shocked to upset.

“Because you’re not Lorenzo!”

Marco looked at him as his chest heaved up and down.

_Please tell me you’re serious Charlie, please._

His heart beat out his chest.

_Fuck off, stop this entire fucking masquerade!_

He swallowed and sighed.

_Oh boy, you’re hella fucked._

“Marco, I really don’t know why you’re thinking of it like this”, Charlie said. “You’re not identical because you’re twins and I didn’t fell for looks! I fell for you and for your laughter and for how you talk about sewing and guns as if there isn’t anything more beautiful than it in this world. And for your smile and your sly humour and why the hell are you torturing me like this?”

Marco felt as if Charlie had just kicked him in the stomach:

“What?” He was literally surprised his words weren’t accompanied by his dinner

“Stop leading me on, didn’t you see how much I like you? I tried to be near to you ever so often and yet did everything so I won’t come off as clingy. Marco, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice. I hung onto your every word, I looked at you for minutes straight and didn’t need to do anything else, I put you before the others half of the time – “

“Shut up Charlie”, Marco whispered and the Irish frowned:

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, because you never had the balls to tell me something right!”, Marco shouted into his face. “You think blaming me for your heartbreak is a fucking love confession?! Do you expect me to throw myself at you for this?!”

“I think it – ! No! Marco, I just – “

Marco motioned as if he wanted to slap him and Charlie held his breath.

But the open hand became a pointed index finger under his nose:

“Charlie”, Marco snarled slowly. “You just told me how wonderful I am to you to guilt trip me? If you really fell so fucking hard for me, you … you wouldn’t pull this bullshit on me!”

Why did Charlie had to look miserable, why couldn’t those eyes just turn sky blue again and why did he have to be drunk? _Why did Marco have to be so conflicted about his feelings for him?_

“I made this all about me, Marco, I’m sorry – “

“And I shouldn’t be surprised. You always make it about yourself, Higgins” were Marcos last words before he threw the door shut.

He still heard the banging at the door, he heard the “Marco, I was stupid, I’m sorry! I … I understand it’s my fault! Please Marco, let me apologise! Marco!”

“Fuck off Charlie!”, Lorenzo shouted and Marco jumped at the sudden noise.

Charlie banged against the door again: “I bottled my feelings up and did something stupid! Please believe me at least that I meant it when I said I like you! I hate myself right now, but I like you – “

“Piss off Charlie!”, Marco yelled at the door, hands ready to press against his ears if he heard one more word from the other side of the door.

“You wanna watch a movie, brother?”, Lorenzo asked and Marco heard how tired he was; trying to act like nothing happened was sure exhausting.

“Sure”, Marco answered with a thin smile: “How about Angels and Demons? Since we are already – “

“Sorry.” It was only faint, but Marco still heard it. “Sorry for the bother, Lorenzo. Sorry for everything, Marco. Sleep well, you two. Sorry Marco. Sweet dreams, Marco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _peil Ghaelach_ is Irish for Gaelic Football. Soph refers to it like that because her school does and hence did her family.


	10. Drained Chances

Como could chew one’s ear off.  
  
Not quite an honourable trait for a spy, Dolcetto thought.  
  
Or for a person, in his personal opinion.  
  
“Nothing ever happens here in this piece of shit place except for trafficking. And not even that, anymore, lately.”  
  
Dolcetto just started to click around on the screen while the woman kept talking: “Miss Como, we really just want you to keep an eye out for anything regarding the Sicilians”, he interrupted her.   
  
“I am keeping my eyes out for everything, I am just telling you that I keep my eyes out until they are sore!”  
  
“Oh, if your eyes are as lasting as your vocal cords then we don’t have to fear anything”, he said, drawing circles on the mousepad. “We are looking for Vento, his henchmen or a trio of freaky Irishmen. If you don’t have anything concerning them, keep your mouth shut. Otherwise, we’ll be pleased to hear from you again.”  
  
He put the phone back to the table roughly and leant back.  
  
Had they really turnt on all the small lamps in the room? It was still awfully dim in here and Dolcetto got a headache from staring at the screen all the time.  
  
“Not a very professional end for a call.” Fabio didn’t seem to be bothered by the poor lighting at all. “Or a smooth save for what you said before.”  
  
He didn’t seem bothered by Dolcetto’s glare either or tired from watching the security camera recordings.  
  
Dolcetto looked away and his upper lip twitched. He straightened up and looked at the list on the screen again: “I know nobody likes me, Fabio, but that is a game for two.”  
  
“Not a very healthy mentality, Dolcetto.”  
  
“Tell me anyone who doesn’t do it in this business.” His lip twitched again before he bit his lower one. “There is no one on the list any more. What now?”  
  
“Wait.” Dolcetto looked over to the Milanese. Even though he didn’t look his way, he eventually noticed his stare and stopped the video to glance at him. “That is part of the job when you fish for information. You spread the word and wait for it – “  
  
“To come back to you, I didn’t fall on my head, Fabio.” He looked back at his screen and scrolled the list up again: “But I am not gonna sit here and do absolutely nothing while this case isn’t over.”  
  
He heard Fabio sigh and bit the inside of his cheek. After a while he stopped with the scrolling; everything blurred in front of his eyes anyways. He closed his eyes for a while, clenching them shut when the headache didn’t leave. Before he reached for the water bottle under his table, he paid one more look to Fabio.  
  
Still the same pose with hands fold over his stomach and the same concentrated, bored look on his face. He just cocked his head once.  
  
Dolcetto pulled a face when he realized he shouldn’t have put it next to the hot PC but drank half of the bottle anyways.  
  
While screwing it shut, he rolled a little closer with his chair, eyes on the security camera footage:  
  
“And we really can’t simply grease them?”  
  
“Every toll plaza and airport in Rome? Hardly manageable.” He sighed, blinking a few times: “And I don’t think Lovino wants to spend more money than necessary on Michele. His ego is already hurt, he doesn’t want to hurt his wallet, too.”  
  
“You mean hurting more than some old ass, expensive painting?”, Dolcetto said and now Fabio looked at him:  
  
“Did Gabriella tell you about it?”  
  
“About what?”, he asked, frowning and disgruntled. “Don’t tell me it’s actually a cheap thing my sister wanted.”  
  
He looked back to the screen: “So she didn’t.” Dolcetto still heard what he added under his breath: “You know absolutely nothing.”  
  
“What, what am I not knowing? Cut the mysterious crap and tell me!”  
  
“Nothing. You’re right, Michele already has the painting, and we don’t want to throw more money down the drain because of him. He’d probably just be even happier when he hears about it.”  
  
“Probably …”, said Dolcetto. His look was once more ignored and he rolled back to his place, putting the bottle on the table.  
_  
“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”  
  
“Look at it like an adventure and find something out for yourself, boy. Shouldn’t be that much of a problem for somebody who made it to the top in just a year.”_  
  
Salvatore must have a police record.  
  
He pulled his chair closer to desk again and let his fingers hit the keyboard.  
  
He knew that they had access to some of the police's data banks, even though Dolcetto had rarely been around whenever they had done anything hacking and snooping in documents related. Even though such organisational things were Feliciano's branch of the company, Lovino was the one who made use of it.  
  
And yet, when it was suspected Lovino did it at times for personal reasons – something that wouldn’t surprise Dolcetto – he hesitated to enter the site.  
  
Of course the police wouldn't notice _now_ if someone tried to get access to their data. This wasn't a daily thing and how concerned were they anyways? Especially for old nominal criminals like Salvatore Vento.  
  
When did he die? Would his file be digital at all or still linger around on paper in some shabby office? Dolcetto had never heard of anyone called Vento on the news before he joined the mafia.  
  
And even if he had been not all one for informing himself about politics as a teenager, he heard some news about Mafiosi in the southern part of the country. What if Vento's file was only accessible through the Palermo Police Department?  
  
He decided that before he should go and look what kind of background check the police has done on him, he should try and run a quick one himself.  
  
And, surprisingly enough for him, Google even wanted to complete _Salvatore Ven_ for him.  
  
A Wikipedia page popped up as well as pictures and more articles by newspapers and blogs, even a few state run sites.   
  
First thing he did was opening the Wikipedia page in a different tab before paying a closer look to the pictures.  
  
It was undeniable that he was Michele's father, even in more recent pictures where his hairline had recessed and wrinkles had start to spread throughout his face.  
  
He switched to Wikipedia.  
  
Died 2005.  
  
He scrolled through the pictures, looking for older ones in decent quality; most of them were either hasty shots or depicted the man as a small figure.  
  
But finally, he found one, even though it was a black and white one from a newspaper article.  
  
At first glance he thought the teenager in the picture was Michele but the old, slim man with the glasses couldn't be Salvatore. The picture description revealed it was Giovanni Vento with _his_ son Salvatore.  
  
Masi's words crept back into his head and her superstition didn't surprise him anymore. Michele was a perfect copy of his father. Except for those eyes and Dolcetto scrunched at the close up pictures where the man had the same cocky grin on his face as his son.  
  
The one for his Wikipedia page was the one of him in a courtroom, though, and he looked rather disgruntled.  
  
Born 15 th March, Died 13th July, Salvatore Vento was the only son and later leader of an influential Sicilian mafia family.  
  
He lived and worked in Palermo, even though his connections were speculated to reach throughout the rest of Europe and even Asia and America.  
  
He used to be the chairman of the Commissone from 1984 to 1989 when the Vento family got into mayor financial and political trouble. He did not join the Commissione again after that.  
  
Even though all of this was known, he only ever was sentenced for traffic offense.   
  
Due to his outcast status, the police reached out to him as insider during the 90ies but Vento refused. It had no consequences for his career but by 2000, most of his connections outside of Sicily and Italy ceased to be.  
  
He died 2005 after an assassination attempt by a Camorra Family.  
  
He was married to the civilian Maria Piraino and had one son, Michele Vento.  
  
Michele didn't have his own Wikipedia page.  
  
Something much greater unfold right in front of Dolcetto’s eyes when he had only done a quick google search. There must be so much brooding underneath, told by mafia intern networks and in-depth articles.  
  
He had only wanted to know why Masi was comparing Michele to his father. Who this apparently so utterly loathsome man was.  
  
Did Lovino and Feliciano know this? Did they ever try and actually dig up Michele's roots? Or was their family feud enough for them to keep going without questioning it?  
Did Michele know all of this?  
  
“You could have just asked me if I needed a second pair of eyes if you wanted to do something.” Dolcetto cringed when he heard Fabio and drew a hasty breath. “Sorry, I didn’t want to startle you.”  
  
“Oh shut up”, Dolcetto muttered and closed the browser before looking over to Fabio. The Milanese was facing him now:  
  
“Who put that idea into your head, Masi or Franci?”  
  
“None of them”, Dolcetto snarled but didn’t look away. “If anything, Masi made me curious. And I can’t blame her for her humbug, Michele looks like a carbon copy of Salvatore.”  
  
Fabio frowned: “Really? I have never seen him. Though I have heard of him. Quick, can you show me a picture?” He leant in to Dolcetto  
  
“Sure …”, the Venetian said taken aback, opening the browser again and going through the pictures: “Look at that one. You think it’s Michele but it’s his dad.”  
  
“Jesus, some people’s genes are scarily successful”, Fabio said. “Let me see the more recent ones.”  
  
“Sure”, Dolcetto said and went back, just hovering over a few pictures to make them bigger.  
  
“Michele with short hair and a little more weight on his hips, this is interesting and frightening all the same.”  
  
Dolcetto just cocked an eyebrow and gave him a confused and judging look while Fabio took a further look at the pictures on the screen, the grey eyes flitting from left to right and back.  
  
Dolcetto had already opened his mouth when Fabio cleared his throat and looked at him:  
  
“Do you want to hear the very little I know about him?”  
  
“Sure”, Dolcetto replied slowly.  
  
“My dad has talked a few times about him. Usually just about things with Rosario Vargas and that he was trouble. Big trouble.” He shrugged: “Big trouble in Italy at least; I highly doubt my father was referring to the rest of the world. But when he brought Salvatore up it was always … it sounded vastly different from what I see from Michele in person. My dad made Salvatore sound like the literal devil.” Fabio looked away and sighed: “Though I wouldn’t take my dad’s words for completely true.”  
  
“Thanks though… “, Dolcetto said and brows furrowed. He shook the confused face off when after Fabio looked at him:  
  
“You’re welcome.” And with that the Milanese leant back into his seat again, folded his hands over his stomach and started the video recordings again.  
  
Dolcetto’s lips pursed and went back to normal over and over again; he bit the insides of his cheek while staring at his screen.  
  
He looked over to Fabio again: “How can I watch the recordings as well?”  
  
Fabio glanced at him: “Give me a minute and I’ll set it up for you.”  
  
“Just tell me what I’ve got to do.” He closed his browser. “We have a job to do.” _And it’s not digging up his family history.  
_

 

* * *

 

She had slept for three hours and felt like complete shit when she woke up. The progress of her shower had gone down the drain and she rolled over to the other site of the bed to fall back asleep. But just when she curled up again, she put her nose to the pillow and sniffed.  
  
Of course, nothing but Harry’s smell on this side either. Even though her brother preferred the one to the window more and this should have been the one where his boyfriend slept.  
  
Because the bed in the guestroom was untouched since Harry had slept on it after cleaning.  
  
How would his boyfriend smell anyways? Like sun, beach, spices and coffee?  
  
At least those were the first things that came to mind when she thought of Italy.  
  
Ruins maybe but how were ruins supposed to smell?  
  
Maybe he smelled like Pizza. _She_ would have fallen for a guy who smelled like pizza and she knew that Harry would have, too.  
  
Was she just seriously trying to sniff out Harry’s boyfriend from his bed?  
  
“Doing the creep, Soph, A-Plus, isn’t that Alby’s territory. Ew, who knows what unsanitary things they have done here. Harry has been changing his bed so often – Ew! Everyone I am related to should not have a sex life!” She got up from the bed and stretched, rolling her neck: “Ew. Love. Gross.” She giggled to herself and left the room, only to return immediately and pick up her empty teacup and her phone. On her way downstairs, she checked her phone.  
  
A few new messages in her class’ group chat and a voice message from Harry.  
  
As she listened to it, she heard chatter and traffic in the background, the typical rattle of bad streets.  
  
“Hey Soph, I have literally no fucking idea, but it is really concerning me. Wow, fuck the meaning of life, what is baking soda for?” She grinned and bit her lower lip. “So yeah, everything is totally alright over here. Paddy is alright – Oi Paddy, wanna tell Soph something?”  
  
“Hey Sophie sunshine.” Her heart made a little jump and she had to smile immediately when she heard the deep voice. “Everything alright? I hope you are fine up there.”  
  
There was a little pause before Harry spoke up again: “And Charlie is fine too, right Charlie? Hey Charlie, shall I pass anything to Soph from you?"  
  
She heard Charlie's voice but he was too far away to make the words out.  
  
“He says that he’s a big nerd." Harry was back and Sophie groaned with a smile. "As well as that he hopes that you are alright." There was a pause and Soph made it to the end of the stairs. "There is nothing left, right? Oh well then, talk to you later Soph. Don't do something stupid while I'm away. Love ya, brat."  
  
"You always do stupid things when _you_ are away", Soph said amused. "Besides, I am trying to bake cake, can it get any more stupid?"  
  
She wondered if she should make another voice message for him, telling him exactly that but then shook her head. He had sent this about an hour ago; maybe she could call him now. She wrote him a message asking for a call before she went to the kitchen.  
  
When she put the cup into the dishwasher, the sweet smell of baking still hung in the air – and the ingredients were still lying around on the kitchen counter.  
  
She took a picture of the mess and sent it into the class group with the caption "Baking's going siMPLY GREAT. The genie embraces the chaos!"  
  
After that, she cleaned the bowl by hand and went on to make dough once more. As well as she had before, meticulously checking what's in the recipe double and triply before she did anything.  
  
Just as she sighed when opening the egg box – Why had this to go into a cake that would turn out shitty anyways, she could make scrambled eggs with those – her phone started to vibrate.  
  
"Hey you idiot", she greeted her brother.  
  
"Hey you brat", he replied. "Everything alright?"  
  
"I am trying to bake a cake, how alright can things be?", she replied, trying to put her phone in between ear and shoulder. After it almost fell to the ground, she took it in her hand and sat down: "Did you say something? Almost dropped my phone, sorry."  
  
"No, I was just laughing my arse off at the image of you baking."  
  
"Fuck you Harry, I look beautiful and graceful as I ruin our kitchen", she replied, remembering that she could put her hair into a ponytail again.  
  
"As graceful as a deer - Or what are those big grey animals from Africa called again?"  
  
"Shame on you Harry, how can you forget something's name when you see it whenever you look into the mirror?"  
  
When she reached the bathroom, she tried to first fix her bobby pin with one hand before enabling speaker on her phone and putting it away.  
  
"Burnt the house down yet?", he asked while she brushed her hair.  
  
"Close, close, but no. I mean, the raw dough caught fire and instructions were unclear but I handled this just fine."  
  
Harry cackled as Soph heard the sound of running water in the background. She ignored it.  
  
"But at least I am trying to do something, what have you done all day?"  
  
"Well, I was sightseeing and sitting on my arse, almost got squished in the sardine tins that Italians call public transport, went on a walk, sat around some more, got yelled at in Italian ... Eh, not much actually. Nothing as adventurous as baking cake, oh my god!" She grinned from one ear to the other and had to wait with putting the bobby pin for a few seconds. “You Indiana Jones Junior.”  
  
"I am doing muffins, by the way. Fruit muffins and if a miracle happens and I will get them right once, you better think that I will start making them non-stop."  
  
"Sounds like a healthy diet, I'm in."  
  
She laughed and put her hair into a ponytail. She disabled speaker and put the phone back to her ear.  
  
The rushing was still there.   
  
"Where are you and what is the water in the background?"  
  
"Oh, I'm in my room and that water ... Michele just went to the bathroom. That's all. You can hear it? How far has this bloke cranked this up?" His voice was louder but farther away from the phone now: "Are you trying to drown yourself? Niagara Falls Imitation? My sister can hear the damn shower through the phone!"  
  
The water stopped and Soph heard the deep voice once more without making out what he said.  
  
"It's - Oh it's nothing, forget it!"  
  
The water returned but before Harry did, Soph heard the deep voice again and this time, she could understand it:  
  
"You're weird, bello!"  
  
"I had a long stressful day, shut your mouth or else you'll drown!" was Harry's last reply for him before he went back to talk to Soph: "Sorry for that."  
  
"He's right", she simply said, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"You _are_ weird."  
  
She could hear the smile in his voice: "Well, it was you who started with the damn water. I just brought your words to him."  
  
"Well yeah, but I was merely commenting on the water, it was you who wondered how loud it is."  
  
"You awful nitpicker", he said and she laughed.  
  
"He sounds nice, by the way."  
  
"Why, because he shares your opinion on me?”  
  
She grinned: “Definitely.”  
  
“I am surrounded by little shits, I can’t believe this.”  
  
“Birds of a feather flock together, brother. What are you doing later? Have you gotten my souvenir yet?”  
  
“Of course I got you one already and it is the cheapest kitsch possible. No, I haven’t had the time yet, I am sure I can find something tomorrow.”  
  
“I wouldn’t mind the cheapest kitsch possible.” She said. “So, what’s the plan for now?”  
  
“I am gonna get dinner with the rest later. Dinner in a fancy restaurant with a fancy view.”  
  
“Yeah well, ok, but I am going to have mashed potatoes, sit on our couch and revel in my success as master baker later, so who’s the real winner here.”  
  
“I would say you but I will have my beautiful boyfriend with me.  
  
“I will believe that when I see him”, she replied cheekily.  
  
“Dammit you win”, he said and she laughed. “It’s nice to hear that you are well.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s nice to hear that you are well, too.” She thought of what had happened with Alby today: “But Harry …”  
  
“Yeah Soph?”  
  
She had solved the problem for now, hadn’t she. She could always tell him once he was back.  
  
“Baking soda is for air in the cake. It makes the cake fluffy!”  
  
“Soph, I am sorry to break it to you, but if your cake is fluffy that’s called mould.”  
  
“Fuck you Harry”, she laughed. “I know I am right, I am a master at baking.”  
  
“Hell yeah, I remember all of our biscuits.” He chuckled: “Anything else?”   
  
“No, that’s all. Gonna get back to my poor muffins.”  
  
“Good luck with that. Talk to you tomorrow brat.”  
  
“Goodbye you tosser.”  
  
She looked at her phone with a faint smile before she went back to the kitchen, a weird but warm feeling in her tummy. 

 

* * *

  
  
The kiss ended with a smack and Harry had goose bumps when Michele caressed his sides.  
  
“Do you like this?” Michele asked with a smile and Harry bend one leg to brush against Michele’s.  
  
The Sicilian was on top of him, chest almost touching Harry’s and one leg in between his.  
  
“And how I like this”, Harry replied and lifted his head for another kiss.  
  
Michele immediately sucked on his upper lip and Harry wrapped an arm around his neck as their tongues poked at each other. He could still taste the wine on Michele’s.  
  
He twitched as Michele pressed his hips against his own and the Sicilian broke the kiss:  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
“Stop asking”, Harry said, putting his leg around Michele’s and giving him another kiss, biting the Sicilian’s lower lip that Michele sucked air in. “Sorry – “  
  
“No, I liked that”, Michele said, pecking him on the lips. “Do it again.”  
  
Harry grinned and complied, shivering when Michele’s hand started to run over his body again.  
  
“You’re so sweet, Harry”, Michele said with a content smile before he kissed Harry’s neck down to the collarbone. Harry moaned quietly, hands running over Michele’s back as the other moved down to his chest. “And you’ve been such a good boy today I am going to reward you. Would you like that, Harry?”  
  
“I’d never say no to it”, Harry said, breathing having audibly sped up. Michele grinned and placed his legs now left and right from Harry’s and kissed him once more. His tongue poked at Harry’s bottom lip before it ran over the Irish’s own and their lips pressed against each other.  
  
“It’s nice to see how excited you are for me, Harry”, he said, putting a streak of hair behind his ear before kissing the other’s neck again.  
  
Harry rolled his hips, the bulge in his pants brushing against Michele’s stomach: “How could I not be excited for someone as talented as you – “  
  
He had wanted to add “Michele”, but moaned once more, fingers going to the back of Michele’s head. Running them through his hair and biting his lips, the Sicilian worked his lips and tongue on the same spot over and over again. Harry was sure he’d leave a hickey there.  
  
“Michele”, he whispered when somebody knocked at the door.  
  
Both of them froze and frowned, but the knocking came back.  
  
When Harry moaned this time, it wasn't out of pleasure but annoyance.  
  
“Who the fuck is knocking and what do they want?", he hissed and Michele looked over his shoulder:  
  
“I have no idea, bello, but I better take a look at it.” He kissed Harry on the cheek before he freed himself from his grip and sat up. While he put his pants on again, their interruption knocked again, this time followed by a loud “Hey?”  
  
They both recognised the voice and Harry threw his head back:  
  
“Oh man Charlie, I am trying to get fucked here!”  
  
“I really wonder why he’s here”, Michele said and stopped buttoning up his shirt halfway as he went to answer the door.  
  
Charlie had leant against the door and almost fell inside when Michele opened it; he still had the presence of mind to swing to the door frame.  
  
Michele blinked a few times: "Charlie, are you alright?"  
  
"No, not at all", the other replied shaking his head. "I am a fuck up who is fucked up because he fucked up."  
  
Charlie sighed and put a hand to his forehead while his eyes stared into nowhere.  
  
"And now less cryptic", Michele said. "Wait Charlie, are you drunk?"  
  
"I wouldn't call it drunk", Charlie said. "But I am not denying I am on a good way to be drunk." He pulled his hand over his face while Michele pulled him inside: "I am an idiot!”  
  
“Charlie, I know this, you are interrupting me getting laid for stating facts?!” Harry called from the bedroom and Michele jumped while closing the door:  
  
"Harry, don't be like that!"  
  
"Like what?! Everything I said is the truth."  
  
Michele glared into the bedroom until Charlie spoke up: "Sorry to ruin your guys' night."  
  
"Oh no Charlie, it's ... don't worry about that, Jesus, sit down first." Michele gently grabbed his arm lead him to the couch. He made him sit down, himself taking a seat on the armrest: "How much did you drink?"  
  
"With the three from dinner?", Charlie asked and looked up at him with skewed grin: "I think five. Yeah five. Or six? No it was five."  
  
Harry appeared in the doorframe, track bottoms and an old T-Shirt on now: “What’s wrong?”  
  
Charlie gave him the same grin for a second before his facial features slipped with a sigh: "Everything. Mostly me and my brainless actions! Goddammit, you all told me I shouldn't be like that!"  
  
"What the hell have you done?", Harry asked worried and Michele leant down to Charlie:  
  
"Is it about Marco?"  
  
Charlie nodded and ran his hands through his face before looking up again: "I am really sorry to bother you two with that. You know, I thought about going to Paddy, but oh well.” He laughed awkwardly: “I want to trip myself the stairs down already! Disappointing the old man would just add a whole new flavour of self-hatred to this dish of misery and I feel like vomiting anyways, so thanks!” He looked over to Harry who stood beside the couch now. "I should have listened to you, I should have listened to _the old man_ but what do I do? I listen to alcohol! Great, isn't it?!"  
  
"Mate, I know wallowing in self-pity is just oh so fucking wonderful but could you tell me what you _did_ so I can at least try to … do anything?" Harry said and Charlie nodded; he took a deep breath before he leant back:  
  
"You know, I went back to my room after Dinner and thought about Marco. That was probably mistake number one. And while I thought about him and how he gave me the cold shoulder tonight I thought it was a good idea to drink one more beer to drown the thoughts. Mistake number two!"  
  
Harry rubbed his eyes and sat down beside him, crossing his arms: "Oh Jesus."  
  
"And instead of drowning the thoughts, it planted the weird idea in my head that I, led by feelings and drugs, should go and talk to Marco. Ask him why he was so distant tonight and like ... making sure he knows that I have a crush on him. Mistake number three! So I went and talked to him and what I told him? That I really like him and that it is completely not his fault that I am so devastated, I just wanted him to know that I think that he's wonderful and how he could maybe think about our relationship? Nah! Of course not! I blamed him for my fucking manpain! That I am so torn because of him and that he tortures me by deliberately not picking up the hints, obviously! Mistake number four, god why I am such a whiny fucking idiot!" Charlie buried his face in his hands again and trashed his head from one side to the other.  
  
"Oh man", Harry said under his breath while Michele ran his hand through his hair:  
  
"That is ... wow, that is really bad."  
  
"I know!" Charlie jumped up from the couch and clenched his hands into fists, lifting them with a suppressed scream and letting them fall back to his sides with a sigh. He groaned once more and rolled his head, Harry grabbing his leg and Michele his arm when he staggered: “This obsession is not romantic! I have to tone this shit down a notch! Next thing I do is climbing into his room through his window and watch him sleep at night! And blame him for that I can’t stay away from him – “  
  
Harry looked up at him: “Wait, are we doing Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey?”  
  
Charlie looked down on him with eyes wide open and brows furrowed in worry: “It’s the worst of both!”  
  
Michele frowned at both of them: “You read those?”  
  
Harry shrugged: “We watched. And watched readings of this grey shit.”  
  
Charlie, with hands reaching out behind him feeling for the couch, sat down again: “We were bored. Wait Harry, didn’t Soph had the first Twilight Book?”  
  
“She cringed all the way through and it’s one of the few books she threw out of her window.”  
  
Charlie blinked a few times but nodded then: “That explains why you didn’t want to sell it at the flea market.”  
  
Harry shrugged: "I mean she found it okay-ish but the romance got on her nerves. Why, you just fucking demonstrated."  
  
Charlie sighed and chuckled: "Yeah." Then he suppressed another scream and threw his head back: "I am such a moron! The biggest jerk to ever walk this earth! What the everloving hell did I think?! Right, nothing at all!"  
  
“Charlie, Charlie, there is no use to beat yourself up over it”, Michele said, putting one hand on his shoulder.  
  
Harry crossed his arms behind his head and grinned at him: “A fault confessed is half redressed. Man, you know you fucked it up, now you can only grab the bull by the horns!”  
  
“But I … man I have been so nasty, even when I apologise … God, I want to throw up, everything inside me rebels.” He put his hands over his closed eyes while Michele patted his shoulder: “Everything in me recognizes my douchebag ways and wants to get away .”  
  
“Stop being so dramatic Charlie, lovesickness happens to the best of us”, Michele said with a smile. “And it’s not over yet – or is it?”  
  
“Well…”, Charlie said and sighed before standing up. Staggering again, he bumped his knee against the couch table and would have fallen if Harry hadn’t caught him. “Thanks mate”, he muttered and walked over to the window. “Well it’s … not quite over but just because we haven’t reached a conclusion with our talk. Marco got pissed and threw the door shut in my face – which is his good right.” He looked out of the window, but saw only little people. The Pantheon stood there in whispers instead of loud chatter, the elephant was lonely on the Piazza della Minerva.  
  
“I know I have to make up for what a jerk I’ve been”, he said. “But I still wish I could just forget.” He looked back into the room and spotted the wine bottle on a sideboard.  
  
“Charlie, you’ve got to face this”, Harry said and Michele sighed:  
  
“Okay we’ve got to think sober about this situation. Well, you do, Charlie.”  
  
“Damn right”, he muttered before walking over to the sideboard, almost falling over when he came to a hold with his hands on its upper side: "I have to correct my mistakes tomorrow!"  
  
“That’s the spirit!”, Harry said and Michele smiled.  
  
“You most certainly have the right ideas even now, Charlie.”  
  
“I have fucked up but I am a grown man and like that I will take responsibility for my actions!”  
  
He had grabbed the bottle even before the other two could yell “No!” and they only watched in horror as he emptied it.  
  
Charlie held down a burp, put the bottle back on the table and smile confident: "I have to talk to him again and explain myself."  
  
“And there it goes down the drain, the last piece of his common sense”, Harry hissed.  
  
“Thanks for lending me your ear, guys”, Charlie said and took a wobbly step away from the sideboard. “I am going back to my room now, enjoy your night.” He walked towards the door: “Or maybe I could try to talk to Marco again – no, that’s a stupid idea.”  
  
“You just drank half a bottle of wine in one go, mate, you are not going anywhere”, Harry said and Michele sighed but Charlie waved his hand while he staggered towards the door.  
  
“Don’t let me cockblock you, Happy fucking.” And with that he tripped and fell to his knees.  
  
He frowned at the floor while Michele got up to help him.  
  
“You know, Michele”, Charlie said while the Sicilian pulled him on his legs. “On second thought it might have been six beer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Commissone_ was a Sicilian Mafia Commission, made up from several Mafia Bosses. It was there to settle arguments within and in between the families.
> 
> The _Camorra_ is the network of the Mafia Clans in Naples and the region it's located in, the Campania.


	11. Real Nightmares

It would have really fitted the scene if the two had went out to smoke. Not that Francesco had any desire to do so; he just thought It’d fit.   
  
He had smoked. Once. One package.   
  
And then he had decided that while you had to try everything if you wanted to experience this world, you could stop it if isn't enjoyable.   
  
“It’s colder than I thought”, Gabriella said. “I wish I wore some thicker tights.”   
  
He looked at her and caught her look. She smiled faintly, pressing her woollen trench coat tightly to her body.   
  
“Well, how could we have known that we’d be still up and outside at this hour”, Francesco replied. “I suppose offering you my jacket so you can wear it as skirt won’t help a lot.”   
  
“My skirt is already fairly long, but thank you Franci.” She looked back into the sky and Francesco guessed he didn’t hear what she said under her breath: “And it would have not been guaranteed that I wouldn’t have been up around this hour still.”   
  
“Star gazing when troubled?”, Francesco asked and took a step towards her when she looked back at him: “Is this why you would probably have been outside around this hour?”   
  
“Oh, this, no”, she looked away flustered. “No, not star gazing. Actually, you shouldn’t get out if you have trouble sleeping, should you? Fresh air wakes you up.”   
  
“And it calms you down if you have a pondering headache”, Francesco replied. “But I don’t know what troubles your sleep, Rella.”   
  
“Yeah … Yeah ... It helps you sort your thoughts … when everything is running wild”, she said.   
  
She looked down. She licked over her lips multiple times and nodded while talking. One of her legs started to shake.   
  
“What’s running wild now, Rella?”   
  
“He’s a pondering headache!” She looked up and slapped her palm against her forehead. “The atmosphere in there is sticky and hot and just so uncomfortable! I just … You try and try to make friendly conversation with him because, god knows I am pathetic, but I can’t stand sitting in the same room with my own damned brother in forced silence, and you try to talk like a normal person with him and all you end up is wanting to scream at him!”  
  
“Gabriella, it is not pathetic”, Francesco said. “It’s natural you’d feel like this when he’s behaving like that.”   
  
“Tell that him! Tell that Dolcetto!”, Gabriella said, leaning in to him. “And he will tell you how fucking pathetic it is. It is pathetic that I am still running and looking after him. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t go home, even if I wanted to! And seeing how I cling to him, doesn’t that tell how desperately I want to?!”   
  
Her voice was tear choked, swallowed letters and entire words, cracked and left her gasping for breath.   
  
“Gabriella, if you want a shoulder to lean on alongside with an open ear – “  
  
“No, no, it’s fine Franci”, she said. “It really is. I am still standing, am I not?” She swallowed and looked away. Francesco believed to hear her heartbeat.  
  
“Still standing solid as a rock”, he said. “Which is amazing, considering what you’ve been through.”   
  
“It’s nothing to be proud of”, she said quietly. “Because I … I honestly don't know what'd make me sicker - Now sitting in the dorm of a university and be worried sick about the runaway or this life right here, right now, knowing I'll never be an archaeologist or an art historian. Or any kind of historian. Nothing that I ever dreamed of happened ... I threw my dream profession, my entire planned out life, away for him.” She breathed hitched. “I mean, not only because of him. I couldn’t have gone after him this easily if I would have not had my own reasons. But that was secondary! I went after him because I cared! I was scared for him! And he still acts as if I am overdramatic and me worrying about him is my fault!” She had tears in her eyes, fingers cramped around her trench coat. “Because that is the pathetic thing here. I acted because of my heart only to get stabbed right through it.” She started to cry: “And I still want to be here with him, I still want to care for him, I still do care for him. And I wish I wouldn’t, not at all, not one bit.”   
  
“Gabriella”, Francesco said firmly. “I am afraid you’ll fall.”   
  
“It’s fine!”, she shouted but caught herself after a sob: “Franci, I am sorry – “  
  
“Do you want me to leave you alone? Rella, I see you there coming apart at the seams and I just want to know how to help. Tell me how.”   
  
She cried and nodded again and didn’t look at him.   
  
“I am so sorry. Oh god knows, I am pathetic – “  
  
“Rella, you don’t have to apologize. Don’t think of me or anything else. Think of yourself, what _you_ need right now, okay?”   
  
“An easier life”, she whispered. “A goddamn time machine. Oh please hug me, Franci, my muscles feel like they are not there at all.”   
  
“Don’t mind that, I’ve got enough for two”, he whispered after pulling her into his arms. And she laughed about it, shook in his grip which he didn’t loosen; only smiled about it.   
  
“My legs are still cold”, she said.   
  
“We can go inside if you feel like it”, he said but she shook her head, rubbing her chin against his shoulder.   
  
“I don’t want to go inside yet. I am very sure if I even only hear Dolcetto I am going to feel sick.”   
  
He could feel her heartbeat now; and wished she would not notice that his was just as rapid.   
  
“Take all the time you need then”, he said. “I would even offer to warm your legs but I think the position for this would be quite questionable.”   
  
“It’d be weird and not questionable to anyone who sees it, that is the problem here”, she said and chuckled. He chuckled with her and rubbed over her back.   
  
Nothing happened and Francesco looked up at the sky; he sighed with a faint but crooked smile when he saw that it was still fairly clouded.   
  
“Thanks for being here with me”, Gabriella said and he kept staring at the sky. His heartbeat slowly calmed down and for Francesco it felt like it was ready to stop beating, leaving his veins hollow. Guttering out his entire body.   
  
“No problem, Gabriella”, he said. “It never hurts to help a friend.”   
  
“You’re a good one, Franci”, she said and nuzzled her face into shoulder. “You have an open ear for everyone.”   
  
“Always for my friends”, he said. “And people are just fascinating. Some more, some less. Why not listen to them then?”   
  
“I know Franci”, she said. “I know. I sometimes wish I found people as fascinating as paintings, maybe then I’d have your patience and kind-heartedness.”   
  
“Gabriella, I’d wish I’d …”, he started to mutter. And he hoped he had imagined her holding her breath.   
  
“You are so patient. Look, Dolcetto is your brother, he means so much to you and despite him behaving like this, you still try. You stand your ground and get emotional, you actually act kindness out when I am a silent watcher. Don’t wish to be like me and people are not paintings; people have layers, too, but people are in motion. People are a never finished gallery and you are a wonderful one. And I … I am very proud of you.”   
  
It was silent for a long while.   
  
“Thank you Franci”, she said. “I honestly don’t know how well I’d handle all of this without you.”   
  
“Just as fine, you are who you without someone telling you that”, he started but she cut him off.   
  
Cut him off that he frowned slightly and hung onto her lips:   
  
“No Franci, you don’t understand. You underestimate your silent watcher thing. You underestimate how important your fascination for other people is. You just take everything you see in and you don’t force your picture of other people on them, your own standards. You take people how they are and try to help them. You know … If I could be a little more like you, maybe I could understand Dolcetto.”   
  
He swallowed. Saved the feeling , the thoughts her small speech had awoken in him for later. There was no time for a thinker now when a friend was needed.   
  
“Trust me Gabriella, with family members it is different”, he said. “You grew up with him; you cannot get rid of the pictures in your head. I want to help, yes, but I can only … I want to look out for Dolcetto because he is a troubled, _small guy_ – “  
  
They both laughed and she slapped him:   
  
“Franci! Don’t stress it like that! Just wait, he’ll be down here in a second.”   
  
She kept laughing and he took a very small step back to give her space. But she clinged to him that he stumbled a little and laughed so hard she had to draw air in, coughing afterwards because she did it too fast.   
  
He patted her back and tightened his grip again: “It’s fine. So where were we? Ah yes, at Dolcetto’s most remarkable features.”  
  
She cracked up again and he waited with a smile until she calmed down.   
  
“I want to look out for Dolcetto because he just made it into adulthood. He is young, he is troubled and he hurts others like that. Himself, too, probably. That is what I can do for him and you in the process maybe. But I can’t help with you two with your relationship as an outsider.”   
  
“That still means a lot to me. Like I said … I worry for him. I do care for him, It’s just … He’s so ignorant. Did I tell you about the painting?”   
  
“About the painting or about an incident involving Dolcetto and the painting?”   
  
She snorted and leant back, loosening the hug. He looked her in the face now.   
  
“He doesn't even want to talk about the fucking painting; only matters that it’s stolen to him. I thought he might be interested, I thought I might get him interested.” She crossed her arms, hands tucked away in the crooks, moving her head instead as she talked. “Pah, I should be happy he doesn’t brush it off as me being overly excited about paintings again! About anything! I just want to be happy about something without his groan and his eyeroll in the back! God, I am so angry Franci.”   
  
Gabriella was not a nice sight angry. But the passion in her every move and word put a sparkle in his eyes: “And it is your good right to be angry.”  
  
“Like, none of them understand what’s there to be so excited about! They don’t even make an attempt to find out why it’s such a masterpiece! They all don’t know the story behind this … You bet your ass Vento has no idea what a damn treasure he stole!” Francesco contemplated if he should tell Gabriella that she’d probably strain her fingers if she kept her shaking hands pressed to her body, but that moment she opened her arms and started gesturing: "That man doesn't know what he's got there! Now he'll hang it in his living room and the world will never see it, this time guaranteed! I can promise you that it’s nothing but a trophy to him!”   
  
“Hey Gabriella, you sound a little like it’s lost for you already”, Francesco said. “Don’t give up yet. Use your strength to kick him in the ass. Save that anger for when you catch him.” She took a deep breath through her noise: “Because that masterpiece doesn’t belong into a living room.”  
  
“Yes”, she said. “Yes it doesn’t. Goddammit, he can hang his fucking counterfeit there after I threw it at his face!” She took another deep breath and looked at him. His chuckled made her smile and Francesco loved the kind look on her face: “Thank you. I’ll be back inside then, are you coming, too?”  
  
“If my help is not urgently needed, I’d like to get some more fresh air”, he replied.   
  
“Don’t freeze out here”, she said, gave him a last one armed hug and turned around. **  
**  
“Gabriella?”  
  
She stopped and looked at him: “Yes Franci?”   
  
“Please, please, please never change.” He shook his head with every please and even though his words were quiet, they were firm.   
  
She smirked; then smiled at him: “It’s a never finished gallery.”   
  
He listened to her steps until the door fell shut.   


* * *

  
“Can’t you imagine how cool it would be if all of this would be real?”, Lorenzo asked and Marco looked over to him:   
  
“Hm? What?”   
  
“Those conspiracy theories and stuff. This Illuminati thing, you know. Secret orders and weapons of mass destruction for a new world. And then the heroes who save the day.” He stopped short and cocked his head: “Even though we could also be the ones in the shadows.”  
  
“Aren’t we already?”, Marco answered. “I mean … not as cool, though.”   
  
“Which is the problem. Hey brother, how many times do you think you could get laid with stories about being a secret world ruler?”   
  
Marco chuckled: “Depends on how convincing you are.”   
  
He was glad when Lorenzo turned away, either to continue watching the movie or to think about how to brag about being in a sect without getting labelled as crazy.   
  
Assuming from his facial expression, it was both and Marco hoped he’d be occupied for quite a while. He didn’t know for how long he could hold up a conversation when his entire torso hurt.   
  
He could not concentrate on the movie for more than 5 minutes. He felt pinned to his bed and wanted to do something, anything at the same time.  
  
Marco sighed and sat up cross-legged, back leaning against the headboard and wall of the bed.   
  
He should get Charlie out of his head; after all, this evening had confirmed that Charlie was in for nothing other than himself.   
_  
"You're not Lorenzo!"_   
  
Why did it hurt so much? Where did those stomach aches came from? Maybe he should eat something. Maybe that would help.   
_  
Mate, physical things won't help against the psychical cause.  
_  
Were there any prescription-free medicaments he could use to get Charlie off his mind? _Why was this fucker still there in first place?  
_  
He had showed up drunk and with his true face. All the times he had thought about Charlie before had been kind of understandable, but now?    
_  
"I am sorry Marco, I made this all about myself!"_   
  
Maybe Charlie had just copied his words.   
  
Maybe Marco just picked the situation apart for more reasons to convince himself his crush on Charlie was non-existent and even if, unrequited.  
_  
"I hate myself right now but I like you!"  
  
"Sorry Marco. Sleep well."_  
  
Had this not what Marco wanted, too, secretly? That Charlie would confess to him and sweep away all of his doubts? Did he not like Charlie this way?   
  
A man who just showed up drunk at the doorstep of his hotel room and guilt tripped him. Marco was disgusted by himself.   
  
But also with a man who had thrown looks in his direction whenever he thought Marco hadn't noticed. Smiling at him or looking away when he caught his eye. Who had sat down for two hours in his room, listening to Marco talk while he sewed. A man who had started off with compliments based on his looks, shifting to how much he liked his personality, his skill when it came to his interests, his interests at all. And his smile and his laughter …  
  
A man who could keep him and his brother apart.   
  
He was even more disgusted by himself. Disgusted that he tried so desperately to deny his feelings for Charlie even to himself.   
  
Marco groaned and Lorenzo looked at him.   
  
“Brother?", he asked and Marco rolled his head:  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“What's this contortion performance?"  
  
It took Marco a second until it dawned on him; he hadn't noticed how he had pulled one leg up. Old habits die hard apparently.   
  
“You haven’t sucked at your toes in a long time.”   
  
"Yeah", Marco said, stretching both of his legs along the bed. "How embarassing."  
  
"Is there something wrong - oh god", Lorenzo started but Marco piped in, shrugging his shoulders:   
  
"I don't know why either, but maybe I am just too tired. After all what happened today."  
  
"Marco, is this about Charlie?!"   
  
Marco gasped quietly before he nodded and leant over to him: "Yes! I just find it so sad that ..."  
  
"That he is such a dickish flirt? That is not sad, that is enraging!" Lorenzo interrupted his search for words and Marco leant even closer to him, almost falling off the bed for a moment. No, Lorenzo’s opinion and tone of voice should not surprise him. But they hurt him nonetheless:  
  
"Yes! Yes it is! But it's also..."  
  
Marco breathed out and in. Nothing else happened. The rest of the sentence died in his throat when Lorenzo didn’t look pissed off anymore.   
  
He looked confused and taken aback. Of course his brother didn’t understood what got Marco so worked about this. And of course to Lorenzo the best solution was forgetting Charlie; everything else was not worth contemplating.   
  
“It’s just sad that he behaves like this after I thought we were friends”, Marco said. “He’s such a drama queen, isn’t he?” He didn’t think Lorenzo would buy it. Marco sounded obnoxiously fake to himself.   
  
“Damn right he is. Just wait until tomorrow, I am really curious what kind of excuse he has. Or if he even has the guts to talk to you.”  
_  
Maybe his excuse is that he likes me a lot but overreacted? Maybe he apologises and_ _confesses without all the bullshit this time?_  
  
Marco got up: “I am going to get ready for bed. I need some sleep.”   
  
“Sure”, Lorenzo responded. Marco wondered if he had only imagined the sceptical tone in his voice. “You’ll see, tomorrow you’ll feel different about this entire thing.”   
  
He felt different already about it, way too many emotions for one at once.  
  
Because, he thought as he brushed his teeth, no matter how much he loved Charlie for his sweet looks and being the nerd who sang along to cheesy Italian love songs, his behaviour had hurt like hell and beyond. Charlie had never said a thing about his feelings aside from flirting, how dared he to walk up to Marco and blame him for not having made it work earlier? Had Charlie seriously decided it was himself who dropped enough “hints”, _thus Marco had to be the one to get his ass up and take care of their relationship?_   
  
He bit down on his toothbrush, spitting out one or two hairs afterwards.  
  
So tomorrow would indeed decide something. Depending how Charlie dealt with his drunk rapture, they would decide what to do from now on with their relationship.  
  
But Charlie was hurt too, wasn’t he? So if he’d really liked him, he’d apologise. Charlie was not one for giving up easily and letting himself get beaten down, this much he had noticed. He would not give up on Marco.  
  
Except if it was all a game for him. Marco had no idea about Charlie’s personal life; who knew what was going on back in Ireland. Maybe he’d just forget about it and move on, figuring his efforts had been useless. Maybe he really was a dickish flirt.   
  
Was Charlie in his room? Was he sleeping already or getting even drunker somewhere else, maybe wouldn’t even remember what he did the next morning? Should Marco text him to say he wanted to talk to him? He had no idea what to say, wanting to yell at Charlie for hurting him like that with the guilt tripping confession and yet wanting to tell him that he did like him, too.  
  
 He rubbed his eyes, teeth grit and eyebrows furrowed in frustration. How should he explain red eyes to his brother? Or even worse, any sniffing or actual sobs. He swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring his weak knees and the trouble in his stomach. It was as if the lump had been there to prevent him from puking.   
  
“Marco, do you have to throw up?”, Lorenzo called concerned when had started to cough.   
_  
Go on and tell him. He’s your brother he needs to know that you actually feel like shit. Or at least throw up and tell him some fucking lie but don’t ignore that your body is fucking broken.  
_  
“I just accidentally shoved the toothbrush in too deep”, he said back. “I’m fine.” He took one last deep breath and walked back into their room, avoiding eye contact as he made it to his bed.   
  
His body started to feel empty once he laid down and Marco was very thankful for that.   
  
If only his head was this hollow. Instead it spun wild and fired his heart up in the process, the thoughts overlapping each other.   
_  
Just write Charlie a fucking text and solve this right now –  
  
Get him out of your head jesus look what he is doing –   
  
Sleep, you can’t do anything else.   
  
Why can’t I tell Lorenzo, why is he so stuck up anyways, when did he stop listening –   
  
Sleep, you are tired.   
  
Goddammit I like Charlie so much, I have such a fucking big crush on him and I don’t want to lose him, not even as a friend.   
  
Sleep. It’s late. The time for thoughts is tomorrow.  
_  
Lorenzo turned the TV off 20 minutes before the movie finished, and his brother’s even breath was the only sound in the room.    


* * *

  
“I really appreciate now that this suite has two bathrooms”, Harry said.   
  
“Well, he has not thrown up yet”, Michele replied.   
  
“Yet”, Charlie said, word slurred but you heard he put effort into speaking clear. “Just wait, the cow from dinner will want to say Hi soon enough.”   
  
“I don’t know why, the wine you had would have fit your dinner excellently”, Michele murmured under his breath and Harry sighed.   
  
“I love the ceiling in this room”, Charlie said.   
  
“It is advertised as the highlight of this suite”, Harry said. “And it is definitely not ugly.”   
  
Michele shuffled closer to him and put his head on his chest. Harry put one arm around him and started caressing his arm.   
  
“Don’t you dare fall asleep and leave me alone with him”, Harry said and kissed Michele on the hair as the Sicilian closed his eyes.   
  
He sighed and opened them again: “But he’s your best friend.”  
  
“And you let him in”, Harry gave back.   
  
“Guys, I am right over here, I can hear you”, Charlie said. “Hear you very well.”  
  
“Good Charlie, how about you get up then and be drunk somewhere else”, Harry said. “At least then we would maybe have some funny stories by tomorrow.”   
  
Michele slapped Harry against his chest who only giggled and tried to catch a kiss but Michele turned to Charlie – who had an unexpected beam on his face.  
  
“You two are so cute together”, he said and Michele’s blinked surprise.   
  
“Mhm, look, drunk people always say the truth”, Harry whispered in Michele’s ear, turning that he could press his front to Michele’s back. “So he’s probably right.”   
  
“You are still a prick Harry”, Michele sighed but did not resist the other kissing his neck.   
  
“I am one too, that’s fine”, Charlie said. “One time I actually did let him walk off drunk because I was rat-arsed myself and thought it’d bring back some hilarious stories the next morning.”   
  
“I did wreck David’s bike and got bitten by a squirrel but aside from that …”, Harry said and now it was Michele’s turn to look surprised at Harry.  
  
Charlie got some syllables out in between his chuckles that might have been the attempt to say something, but aside from that it was quiet.   
  
“You want to see my squirrel scar?”, Harry asked. “You know, it bit my palm, if you know what happened you can actually see it.”   
  
“I’d prefer not to see it right now, thank you Harry”, Michele said. Harry shrugged and continued to kiss his neck while one hand rubbed over Michele’s stomach.   
  
Charlie had calmed down by now, another dreamy look on his face as he watched the two: “I am sorry to ruin your guys’ night.”  
  
Harry stopped his ministrations and Michele sighed: “Charlie, you said this for the fourth time, it’s ok.”  
  
“Did I?”  
  
“Yeah, you crashed your own romance already, it’s fine if you bother us, too”, Harry said and Michele kicked him:   
  
“Harry, stop being so mean.”  
  
“Hey, I have not send him off to get bitten by a squirrel yet, have I?”, Harry said.  
  
“And stop being so weird, too. That’s not sexy”, Michele said but Harry only laughed, kissing him on the cheek:   
  
“You said you liked people who can make you laugh during sex”, he whispered and Michele tried his best to hide his smile.   
  
“You being bit by a squirrel and proud of it is just weird, not funny weird”, he replied.   
  
Charlie shrugged his shoulders: “I think it’s on this kinda side of being so weird it is funny because it is unexpected. That’s Frecky.”   
  
“I think he wants to say that I am hilarious and you should therefore bang me”, Harry said and Michele snorted, putting his hand on Harry’s:   
  
“That’s an interesting conclusion, bello.”   
  
“It’s not the one I reached but it is a possible outcome”, Charlie said and the other two laughed, Michele smirking at him:   
  
“Stop being his wingman, no one’s going to get laid tonight anymore.”  
  
“I won’t for sure”, Charlie said and Michele sighed while Harry cocked his head:   
  
“When we lay Charlie on the floor…”  
  
“On the dirty, cold floor where I belong. You know guys, just put me in the trash.”   
  
“We are not putting you anywhere”, Michele said but Harry kissed him on the cheek: “Hold that thought, darling. I need to release some pressure.”   
  
Charlie cocked an eyebrow as Harry folded the blanket back: “Don’t tell me you fumbled so much with Michele you got to jerk off now.”  
  
“Charlie I am just taking a piss.”  
  
Charlie frowned and his eyes went upwards: “Oh, that makes more sense. Or well, rather, that makes sense too.”   
  
“I am still saying that he would not get very far being in a hotel”, were Harry’s last words to Michele before he got up and went into to bathroom.   
  
“You all are a big bunch of dicks”, Michele said, looking over his shoulder to the bathroom door. “Except maybe for Paddy and his sister, but even there I am not sure.”   
  
“Hey, you met three quarters of this family and still decided to become a part of it Michele, blame yourself”, Charlie said and Michele laughed quietly. He still smiled when Charlie rolled over to him:   
  
“But Michele, some straight talk here. Yeah, it’s surprising that I am the one with the straight talk”, the Irish chuckled quietly, “but for real. I am so glad to see Harry as happy as he is with you. Watch out for that boy, hear me? He’s … I feel like he really is still in a rough patch because of the death of his dad, you have no idea how this shook him. He hated himself so much, probably still does. And yet, you make him happy. You kind of remind him that there is more here to … Oh man, I don’t know what to say but please look out for Harry. He really needs to be looked out for, he’ got left in the rain. I know how this looks like, same with me and – “  
  
“Charlie!”   
  
Both Michele and Charlie, cringed at the volume of his voice and Michele turned abruptly around. Harry was standing in the doorframe with wet hands. He looked disappointed and angry, chest heaving up and down.   
  
“I’m sorry”, Charlie said while Michele sat up:   
  
“Bello – “  
  
“Just … Charlie, use your brain for once, even if it is drowning in alcohol”, Harry said before he turned around and went back to the sink.   
  
“Shit”, Charlie muttered and turned to the side while Michele got out of bed to follow Harry.  
  
He was washing his hands and spotted the Sicilian in the mirror as he looked up. Michele was standing close to him and Harry turned around, looking him in the eyes with the same expression as before:   
  
“Don’t talk to me about it.”  
  
“Alright, that’s what I wanted to ask.” He hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek: “It’s fine, I won’t rummage through your life like that.”   
  
Michele didn’t know how much time passed until Harry spoke up again; it felt like an eternity to him: “I am glad that you are here with me, too, though.”   
  
“That’s good to hear”, Michele said, pressing a kiss to Harry’s neck that the Irish cringed. He raised his head and kissed him on the lips: “You’re fun to be around.”   
  
“Fun to be around sounds a little too much like you are just here for some diverting activities”, Harry said, a cynical smile on his face. He took Michele’s wrist, hands cold from the water, and broke the hug. He then turned around and put his own arms around Michele’s waist. His hands wandered to the Sicilian’s arse and he pushed their bodies together. “But could I really blame you if it would be the case?”  
  
“Don’t make such a big thing out of it, Signore O’Connel”, Michele chuckled but licked his lips. “Being so edgy just because a little dark secret about you spilled. I don’t quite think your hurt turns me on.”   
  
Harry flashed a bright grin before he turned around, pushing his lower body against Michele who’s back hit the counter. Michele gasped, hands grabbing Harry’s upper arms who chuckled, rolling his hips against the other’s a few times.   
  
“Your hips say something different, Mister Vento.”  
  
Slightly amused and a little turned on before, Michele now put his index finger under Harry’s nose: “Make the stupid pun – “  
  
“And hips don’t lie”, Harry said, the smirk on his lips and the serious tone making Michele crack up even harder.   
  
“Fuck you Harry”, he said and slapped the other’s chest, who beamed at him. “You know, there could have been great sexual tension but you chose – “  
  
Harry came closer to his face: “I think sexual tension is better achieved through actions than words.”   
  
“Big words coming from you”, Michele replied but gave in to the kiss immediately, hands going to cup Harry’s face as they opened their mouths.   
  
Michele moaned quietly as Harry bit his lower lip and pulled at it.   
  
"You little masochist”, the Irish said with a delighted sparkle in his eyes after breaking the kiss. Michele chuckled and rubbed over Harry’s arms, feeling the muscles tensing up under the pale skin.   
  
"But only just a little. I simply enjoy seeing you being rough, my big strong Irishman." He laughed quietly with Harry after the last words, contently sighing into the next kiss.   
  
“It’s not even that much exaggerated, to be honest. I would love to get topped by you”, Michele said and Harry blinked. “On the other hand, I do want more of _that_ experience”, the Sicilian carried on, hands sliding over his back to his arse, cupping it and dragging his fingers upwards. Harry twitched, sucking air in and nodding a little. Michele was still grinning as the other faced him, panting.   
  
“Me too”, Harry said. “I can’t decide how, but I really want to make you moan my name.”   
  
Michele hopped onto the counter, spreading his legs and wrapping them around Harry’s hips as Charlie called:   
  
“Guys, are you fucking there in the bathroom?” His voice was rather quiet and nervous, almost scared.   
  
Harry looked at Michele before his look went down. As he faced Michele again, he whispered: “We were kinda close to dry hum – “  
  
“No Charlie, we are not!”, Michele said, gently shoving Harry away. “We just had to talk about what you said.”  
  
“That totally did not sound like just talking but okay, if you say so”, Charlie replied. “Also, I’m sorry Harry.”   
  
“It’s fine Charlie”, Harry sighed, walking back into the bedroom with Michele. “It’s not like you just told him … worse.”   
  
“I am still putting my nose into business were it doesn’t belongs”, Charlie said, shuffling closer to the edge as the other two lay down again.   
  
“Jesus Charlie, get out of your damn self-pity-pit”, Harry said. “Yeah, I am a bit pissed but it’s really okay. You apologised.”   
  
“And I am just really happy for the two of you, okay? I mean, Harry, you actually got this hot piece of arse, high five.” Charlie raised his hand, Michele laughed quietly while Harry high-fived him with a smile. “And that with no remarkable talents!”  
  
“He may have no remarkable talents but some quite remarkable features and I don’t mean his eyebrows”, Michele said while Harry grinned:   
  
“Sobering up, you wanker?”  
  
“Probably”, said Charlie, grinning as well as he folded his hands over his stomach again: “But I didn’t want to get into other people’s business again. Did you know that I used to play piano?”   
  
“Faintly”, Harry said while Michele sat up and looked puzzled at Charlie:   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Yeah, when I was like 7 until I was 10. My mom thought it’d be a lovely idea and so did I – until my like 2 nd lesson.” He laughed and Michele laughed with him. “My dad realized pretty early that it was bullshit and sometimes made up excuses why I couldn’t come to my piano teacher if I asked him to. And then he usually played Football with me or got takeaway from the Indian one around the corner.” He smiled faintly: “Hehe. Thanks dad. Also thanks for literally nothing you motherfucker, but thanks for that.”   
  
Michele sighed and rubbed his eyes: “Is anybody here who doesn’t have father issues?”  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders: “You maybe?”  
  
“I would not go that far”, Michele said in a monotone voice.   
  
“Did you play an instrument as kid, Michele?”, Charlie asked.   
  
“My grandmother was a violin player but she better never found out I put my filthy fingers on her instrument sometime”, Michele said. “So I guess no.”  
  
“I used to play the recorder, but my dad gave up on this as quick as I did”, Harry said.   
  
“Oh yeah, if your dad had only been so merciful with you when it came to the Irish Dancing lessons”, Charlie said and Michele jumped at how quick the bed turned into a battlefield:   
  
“Okay, now you’re fucking dead!”, Harry snarled, grabbing Charlie’s collar who giggled and held his arms over his face: “You know how I said you could have told him worse?! This is _worse!_ ”  
  
“What the hell, Harry …”, Michele said but his boyfriend was too occupied with his friend:   
  
“Stop laughing asshole!”   
  
“Why?! I thought every evidence of this time were sealed away in the family vault! Or are you scared I am going to make you dance right here and now?!”   
  
Charlie started to cough from laughter and Harry let go of his collar, putting and shaking his fists.   
  
“What is Irish Dancing?”, Michele asked and Charlie cracked up again while Harry sighed:   
  
“It kinda works like tap dance but you do it in a group. There are different variants and that is literally all you need to know.”   
  
“They all have lovely costumes and Harry’s zitty, small fourteen year old self looked great in them”, Charlie said, laughing so hard he did not make a noise.   
  
“Michele, you laugh and you’re not my boyfriend anymore”, Harry hissed and Michele pressed his lips so hard together that it hurt.   
  
“I am sure you looked lovely, bello”, he whispered out, tears in his eyes and a grin spreading from one ear to the other.   
  
“I hate all of you”, Harry said and let himself fall onto the bed again, gridding his teeth as laughter erupted around him.   
  
“I am sure it wasn’t that bad”, Michele said, kissing his forehead, nose and the corner of his mouth. “Or did your dad made you do it and wouldn’t let you quit?”   
  
“Kind off”, Harry said curtly, looking away as Michele’s questioning look met him.   
  
“Yeah, same reason my mom made me play piano” Charlie said. “Or well, actually not. But it’s up to Harry if he wants to tell that.”   
  
Both looked at him now and Harry sighed, shrugging:   
  
“My mom. It has to do with my mom, too. Kinda … been Irish dancing since I was 6 and my mom loved it so … I kept it up for her. Dad loved it, too”  
  
“Oh my god, daddy and mummy problems? Come here you poor boy”, Michele said, pulling Harry into his arms and starting to stroke his hair.   
  
“Alright, that’s enough fucking angst for one night”, Harry said, pulling himself out of Michele’s hug. “I’ll turn off the fucking lights – “  
  
“Don’t worry I’ll do this”, Charlie said sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. After one wobbly step he leant against the wall: “Where’s the guest bathroom again?”   
  
“Around the corner Charlie, I’ll get you there – “Harry said but Charlie waved his hand and, the other one on the wall, staggered out of the room. Harry was still sitting upwards when the first noises of someone vomiting came from the direction of the bathroom.   
  
“Are you puking on the floor or into the toilet?!”, he shouted.   
  
“Sink!”, Charlie called back before the noises returned.   
  
“Jesus”, Harry said. Michele’s whisper the next second caught him off guard:   
  
“Were this your skeletons you talked about?”   
  
He got goosebumps and his fists dug into the bedsheet but he didn’t face the Sicilian: “Who cares. You won’t tell me about yours either. I regret even showing you this much.”  
  
Michele furrowed his eyebrows, mouthing a “What?”, but too surprised to find more words. “Harry I can’t show you mine – “   
  
“Because it’ll hurt? Because it’ll make you insecure? Yeah, that’s what it does to me”, Harry said, turning back to Michele, lying face to face with him.   
  
Harry looked tired, even more tired when he saw Michele’s scared expression:  
  
“This daddy issue comment. Just … Don’t comment on it, don’t ask about it. I’ll tell you when I am okay with it”, Harry said. “It’s just … Our relationship is a first for me and it’s not because you’re a man. I really feel like I can tell you a lot of things but at the same time I am not sure if I should.”   
  
Harry had closed his eyes and had gotten quieter over the course of his explanation. Michele understood now why he had looked so tired, but it only made his fear grow.    
_  
I love you, Harry._ His tongue was too heavy for words once more.   
  
“You mean a lot to me, Harry”, he whispered, pressing kisses to his hair. “My wonderful boyfriend. I won’t push you, don’t worry about that. I’m sorry. ” Harry opened his eyes, wrapping his arms around him but replying nothing. Michele kept kissing him, Harry burying his face at the Sicilian’s shoulder.  
  
Charlie, leaning against the doorframe with one arm, shoved one hand into his pocket as he watched them.  


	12. Game Changer

It was 2 am. Lovino was still awake and in the office, which surprised himself. On the other hand he didn’t know what else to do, since Sleep was not an option. Rubbing his eyes, he remembered the words of the Acerbis with a smile when he told them they could go home and take a rest.  
  
_"I am staying here. I can't sleep at home anyways!"_  
  
_"If I am not the first one to catch them I am gonna kick myself in the ass."_  
  
Fabio had given him an almost offended frown when Lovino had asked him if he wasn’t tired already and with Francesco he hadn’t even bothered. No matter how often the Neapolitan had yawned, his eyes were still wide open and attentive as ever.  
  
“Can you believe they all refuse to take a break?” Feliciano said as he entered the office, slumping down on the couch left to Lovino.  
  
“Can you believe we also refuse to take a break?” Lovino asked back and Feliciano chuckled, swinging his legs over the armrest. Lovino only saw his legs dangling, face hidden behind arms, hands and smartphone.  
  
"You are always so dedicated to work in situations like that, brother, so it doesn't surprise me", Feliciano said and stopped typing to flash a smile at him.  
  
Lovino rolled his eyes but leant back with a grin, shrugging his shoulders: "What can I say? I am only doing what a good leader should do. But as a good big brother I have to ask why you are still up."  
  
"Because a good co-leader should be always at its leader’s side! As should a good little brother!" Feliciano sat up and rolled his head before putting his hands on his knees: "I can't sleep knowing everyone else is working so hard. Or that you are troubled.”  
  
Lovino smiled as Feliciano grabbed his phone again, face fixed on the little screen.  
  
“But I can’t be up working, knowing that my little brother is still awake after he has been up all day”, Lovino said.  
  
Feliciano giggled and Lovino thought about adding “I mean it Feli, you should be at home!”, knowing it would make Feliciano laugh again.  
  
"With who are you chatting at such an ungodly hour?", he asked instead as Feliciano was typing on his phone again.  
  
"Ludwig!" Felicano's happy tone as he said this name ruined any ease Lovino had in this moment. "He keeps telling me to go to bed every ten minutes but is buried in work himself." Feliciano giggled again: "Stubborn as a mule."  
  
"Indeed", Lovino said, none of Feliciano’s joy present in his tone. "Also what is he? Your mom?"  
  
"He worries like he is my mom", Feliciano sighed with a smile on his face that didn't vanish, even as Lovino groaned: "Oh come on, Lovi, we had this discussion a hundred times already."  
  
"And it's always the same, which tells me that we probably need to have it another hundred times until you finally understand", Lovino said and Feliciano let himself fall back onto the couch. Lovino waited for any kind of response - other than pouting - but Feliciano only started to dangle his legs again.  
  
"Feli!", he said. "Don't ignore me!"  
  
"I'm not ignoring you!", Feliciano said, throwing his hands up but facing the ceiling. "I just don't know what to respond! I _do_ understand that you are worried! It's just that you - "  
  
"That I what?", Lovino snarled and Feliciano pressed his lips together. "Feli? Come on, answer me!"  
  
"You interrupted me!", Feliciano said, pulling his legs from the armrest and sitting up. "You would not have to ask if you would not have interrupted me!" He stressed each word, speaking more clearly than necessary.  
  
Lovino fluttered one of his hands: "Yeah, yeah, sorry, but what do I not understand?"  
  
Feliciano threw his arms up: "That I don't need a guardian! I am not eleven anymore!"  
  
"Oh yeah, but I have yet to see you seriously complaining about Ludwig when he's always looking out for you as if you are a kid!"  
  
"Well, at least Ludwig never says anything bad about you! Or how I should not listen to you or anything else! He doesn’t disrespect my relationships with others!”  
  
Lovino had started to rub the bridge of his nose: "Feli, you're ... you're totally devoted to him like a fucking dog!"  
  
Feli jumped up from the couch, phone slipping out his hands and bouncing once on the cushions until it laid still. "That's not true! I am not his _dog_ or anything! I just love him a lot, okay?! It's not like Ludwig makes all my decisions for me!"  
  
Lovino sounded cynical, words slightly muffled as he rested his cheek on his hand: "Oh well, but isn't it like you'd wish he would?" He took his hand away and spun his finger in a circle: "Oh, I told Ludwig about this problem we had! He said we should do it like this! Wow, I am so impressed by how he handles all of this! I wish I could be as clever as him!"  
  
"First of all, I never said things like that!", Feliciano said. "And second, what's so wrong with him helping me! He has experience with that! He knows what he does!"  
  
"Yeah, he knows what he does and we know what we do!” Lovino’s hand went from his chest to his head, tapping his temple: “Feli, just because your brain had a short circuit that you fell for this suave jerk in a suit doesn't mean he's part of our business! Of our family!"  
  
"Oh yeah and what's with Antonio?" Feliciano said, putting his hands on Lovino’s desk.  
  
His chair almost fell over as Lovino got up: "That is something entirely different! The thing with our family and his goes way back and you know that!"  
  
"And that's why he's allowed to be your boyfriend but Ludwig is not allowed to be mine?"  
  
"I didn't say that - "  
  
"Maybe not today but more than once before!"  
  
"Listen up Feliciano, I am just worried about you. I just don't want you get caught up in nothing but a daydream!"  
  
Feliciano gasped a few times before taking a deep breath: "Lovi, don't you notice yourself how ridiculous you sound? Ludwig's not that little boy we used to meet at the cottage during the holidays! I'm not stupid, I know that!"  
  
"Oh, but wasn't this boy the reason you looked so forward to the vacations we’d spent there for five years? Doesn't Ludwig look like him all grown up?"  
  
"Lovino!" Feliciano sounded choked and yet like he had intended to shout at the top of his lungs.  
  
Lovino leant in to him, an exasperated look on his face: "I am just saying that you should use your brain, okay? Please, just don't ... don't look for your childhood love in this guy!"  
  
"I am not!” Feliciano threw his arms up and turned away: “That you ... that you even think of Ludwig as merely a coping mechanism ... And why are you digging up things from the past! I never mentioned what you used to think about Antonio, do I? No, I am just happy for you!"  
  
"I and Antonio are an entirely different thing! Stop making comparisons that don’t work!”  
  
"And so are I and Ludwig! It has nothing to do with what happened!” Feliciano stamped his foot that it made Lovino cringe: ”Why can't you just let me be happy!"  
  
"What -- Feli! I am worried!"  
  
"You're a jerk!"  
  
The phone vibrated again and both looked at it. Suddenly Feliciano bolted to the couch and grabbed it.  
  
"Seriously brother, this is madness! We've had this discussion a hundred times and you still expect a different outcome!" he said, clearly sniffling.  
  
"Don't dismiss my worry as madness! Feli!" Feliciano didn't listen but strode towards the door. "Feli don't run away!"  
  
Feliciano slammed the door shut and Lovino still heard the footsteps from the corridor.  
  
He even made one step to the side, planning to run after him but couldn’t even lift his second foot. Instead, he picked the phone up.  
  
“Signore Vargas?”  
  
“I fucked up, Franci. Well it’s not like it’s entirely my fault – What I want is that you look out for Feli. He just stormed out of my office.”  
  
He heard Francesco taking a deep breath before he sighed equally deep: “Oh boy, this is a long night for me. Don’t worry Lovino, I’ll talk to him.”  
  
Lovino had put his head onto the desk and wondered if he the other had heard the “thud”: “Ouch. Thank you, Franci.”  
  
“Always at your service, Lovino – I think I hear him, I’ll talk to you later.”  
  
Lovino listened to the beep of the phone for the next few seconds before he put it away; somewhere in the general direction of cradle. But the beeping still went on and he furrowed his eyebrows before he got up and slammed the phone back into the cradle.  
  
Nothing but his angry pants filled the room and Lovino turned his chair around at once when his look fell onto the empty couch.

“Always at my side, my ass”, he said.  
  
Drizzle hit the huge windows, world outside lit by white car lights and yellow street lamps and even though life was still going on out there, Lovino felt empty as if he was dead; as if time had stopped.  
  
_Surely I’m just tired_ he thought and closed his eyelids. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep.  
  
He also didn’t remember when he woke up again but he knew how. Startled by the phone’s ringing he jerked awake, body turning with the chair to see where the noise was coming from and jumping onto his feet at the same time.  
  
After stumbling over the armrest and falling onto his knees, he pulled himself up by grabbing the desk’s edge. Still cursing and kneeling in front of the desk, he answered the phone:  
  
“Pronto?”  
  
“Lovino, are you okay?”  
  
Even though Gabriella could not see him, a smile spread across his face as his tone lightened up:  
  
“Of course, of course Rella. I am just a bit tired, but who isn’t.” He rubbed his eyes: “Why are you calling?”  
  
Her voice was still serious and quiet which made him a little sad, but her words took up all his attention soon enough: “I think we found Vento in the Hotel Minerva. He maybe was clever enough not to use his own name or the one of his lover, but everything about those reservations screams Undercover Mission. And for sure they were paid by transfer from a bank account that’s somewhere in Liechtenstein.”  
  
“That’s … so they’re still in Rome?” Lovino asked but received no answer and heard nothing else but the clicks of a mouse. “Gabriella?”  
  
“I’m sorry!”, she sounded startled before her voice calmed down. “Yes they are. We’ve got their hotel, their room numbers and we are only waiting for responses from our spies. We also thought about sending some of our own people – “  
  
“Do it” Lovino said, getting on his feet again. He patted the dirt of his knees while he carried on: “We need to be sure before we strike. But we also need to be fit when we do strike, so you should get some sleep, Rella.”  
  
“I’m not tired”, she replied and he wasn’t even sure if she was lying.  
  
“You’ll be in the morning”, he answered.  
  
“So will you and I think that you’re more important. Go to sleep and let us do the work.”  
  
His hand reached out behind him, feeling for his chair. He got a hold of the backrest, turning it around and sitting down: “Let someone else who’s not as important as you do the work, Rella. That goes for all four of you.”  
  
“Lovino, this is ridiculous.”  
  
“You are ridiculous, Signorina Acerbi and this is an order. Go home and take a rest.”  
  
“Well, Signore Vargas, as your right hand man I strongly advise _you_ to go home and go to sleep.”  
  
“Rella, I’ll come down there and make you take a nap on a couch with me.”  
  
“Well then I could at least be assured that you are resting.”  
  
Fabio’s voice was heard in the background, but Lovino couldn’t make out what he said or why Gabriella sighed.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Fabio said that Feli and Franci are already sleeping down here anyways – ah nevermind Franci just opened one eye. Don’t grin like that! Shoo! Sleep!” She giggled and Lovino laughed with her. “Dolcetto slumbered away in his chair, too. Do you want come downstairs and join?”  
  
“You won’t go to sleep any other way so I guess I’ll have to”, he said and swore he could _hear_ how she rolled her eyes.  
  
“If you’re not down here in five minutes your excuse will better be that you fell asleep”, she said before hanging up.  
  
It took him less than three beeps of the phone to fall asleep on his desk, faintly snoring into the silence.  
  


* * *

  
Sometimes Sophie stopped for a moment and marvelled at her proneness for fucking up.  
  
She had only wanted to look after the muffins to make sure they wouldn’t burn again, having danced to the tune of music through the kitchen and she had pulled out the sheet just as energetic and swift as her dance moves – having caused it to come out too far and fall. Her first panicked reaction had been trying to catch it with both hands, but as she had burnt her uncovered one and had jerked both back with a cry, the sheet, and thus the muffins, had turned.  
  
Of course the moment didn’t last long since her hand hurt like hell and muffin dough squished on the floor was not exactly art. Her tired bones already ached at only the thought of having to clean it up.  
  
She ignored the pain in her hand for long enough to pick up the sheet with the other hand, putting it on the stove and closing the oven before she looked for an ice pack.  
  
One hand on the ice pack, the other on her phone, she groaned as she looked around the kitchen. Cleaning everything up would be one hell of a task.  
  
“Scratch of a task, this is just going to be hell and I still can’t bake fucking muffins”, she muttered and looked through her phone. She didn’t want to do anything right now but vent to someone. Or to roll up under a blanket and never get back to the light of day.   
  
She considered her options to vent to instead: Niamh, Maeve, Gwen of course, Hannah maybe.  
  
She would not tell Niamh. Niamh was a good listener, but Sophie did not know if she was the one she wanted to talk to right now. Their lives and ideas were very different sometimes and Soph knew she didn’t want to talk to her right now.  
  
The same how she would not call Gwen and admit her defeat yet, even though her second accident wasn’t even baking-skill related.  
  
Hannah McAlistair was her big sister she never had – which was a very accurate thing to say since her personality indeed resembled Harry’s in some points. But she was also the girlfriend of their friend and Scottish Mafia Boss Gavin, so just calling wasn’t an option. Soph didn’t want to risk anything if she was at the job.  
  
“Maeve it is”, she said but just as she scrolled through her contacts she hesitated to press the call button.  
  
A message asking for a call was no interruption or disturbance for Hannah, that was what Soph told herself at least as she pressed send.  
  
“Yo”, Maeve answered the phone. “What’cha want Soph Dog.”  
  
“Hai”, she responded, a drawl in her voice and had to laugh immediately afterwards.  
  
“Why are you laughing?”, Maeve asked, laughing herself and Soph broke into another fit.  
  
“I don’t know?”, she managed to giggle after a while. “Maybe I went insane from baking.”  
  
“Ah yeah, for Monday. How commendable not to procrastinate and bake today already so we’ll have two days old cake at Monday.”  
  
“Oh shut up Maeve” Soph said. “If I’d gave you any of the muffins I made today I would kill you and surely not from their age.” She looked at the half-baked muffins at the floor: “The five seconds rule is long overdue here.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I pulled out the sheet because I wanted to look after them – because I burnt my first ones – I’m making muffins by the way – anyways, yeah so I pulled the sheet out to look after them and I pulled it out to fast that it fell so now there is muffin dough on the floor. And I also burnt my hand“, she patted the ice pack, “so my motivation to clean up is beyond zero by now.”  
  
“Oh, really sorry about your hand”, Maeve said and Soph sighed.  
  
“It’s fine. I am just not getting up any soon to clean or bake again. But Maeve, I tell you, when I am getting anything still baked today, I don’t care that it’ll be stale by Monday I’m bringing it. Enough stress for one weekend.”  
  
“Maybe you get yourself baked to forget all of this.”  
  
“You are awful.”  
  
“I am aware, how else could I be friends with you.”  
  
Her head had sunken during the course of the conversation more and more, now it was lying on the table top: “What do you have to bring for the party?”  
  
“Food. My mom had this wonderful idea to make filled puff pastry with spinach and cheese and stuff. And I had the wonderful idea she makes them because I don’t want to end up like you. Why don’t you ask your brother to bake for you?”  
  
“ABC weapons are against the basic rules of warfare, remember Maeve?”  
  
She laughed: “Then ask someone else! I don’t know, Paddy!”  
  
“They’re all on a business trip”, Soph said.  
  
“Oh”, said Maeve and Soph really disliked the tone of that _oh_ , even though that was surely not intended by her friend. “What’s with Charlie’s mom? The biscuits you baked for the Christmas party were really nice.”  
  
“I already asked her for some advice but the day I will admit my defeat … that day will probably come very soon, let’s admit it.” She raised her burnt hand, pleased that it didn’t hurt a for a few seconds: “But it’s not today!”  
  
Soph grinned and Maeve snorted. “Buy some cake”, she then suggested.  
  
“No, now I started this, now I will not choose the easy path. Besides, I will drag you all down with me. “She sat up straight and banged her hand on the table: “I have to make shitty cake, you’ll have to eat shitty cake! That’ll teach you to make me bake again!” Maeve had started to laugh when Soph had said “all down with me” and Soph chuckled with her. “It’s the harsh truth!”  
  
“How dare we!”, Maeve said and laughed again. Soph’s heart actually skipped a beat when it abruptly stopped. And she frowned when she heard no noise at all anymore.  
  
“Sheez, my mom just barged in my room to tell me she wanted to go shopping and also”, Maeve took the pitch of her voice up a notch, “that I should stop making calls inside the house with my mobile, the landline’s much cheaper.”   
  
“But I don’t like calling your landline”, Soph sulked. “Then I’d might have to talk with your parents.”  
  
“I know right? Ugh, I’ll call you when we are back from the shop.”  
  
“You don’t have to, I only wanted to rant about my baking.” She scratched some ice off the pack: “But maybe I need more support later on so we’ll see.”  
  
“Yes, good – I’M COMING MUM!”  
  
“You just call me later if you want to.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll do, take care of your hand”, Maeve said and hung up.

Soph looked at her phone, wiping the sweat of as she noticed the new message.  
  
"I have all the time in the world for a talk right now, Soph :*"  
  
Hannah had sent it only two minutes ago and even though Sophie did feel a lot better already, she called her. Talking with Hannah was always something special because she could tell her literally anything.  
  
“Hello Sheep Princess”, Hannah said and her calm voice with her melodic accent made Soph’s heart beat faster. “How are you?”  
  
“Hello my Queen of the isles”, she replied and the scot laughed. “I burnt my hand a bit but aside from that I am … terribly tired.”  
  
Hannah laughed once more, but sounded serious: “Oh no, how did you burn your hand? And why are you tired, it’s not that late over there.”  
  
“I attempted to bake. For a school party on Monday and I burned myself with the baking sheet.”  
  
“Oh So – “  
  
“And the kitchen is a total mess and I don’t want to clean it up, but I have to because there are half baked muffins on the floor.”  
  
“Noh, Sophie you poor thing. Today’s a day where you should just have stayed in bed, eh?”  
  
“It is”, Soph muttered. “I should have just gotten back into bed after my panic attack this morning.” She rubbed her eyes: “But – “  
  
“Panic attack? Soph, why did you have a panic attack?”  
  
“It’s not worth talking about, really”, Sophie said and it was hard when Hannah sounded worried like that. “Just … really, nothing you should worry about. How’s _your_ day?”  
  
“If you need someone to talk I am always here, yes?” She paused but Soph only sighed. “I am in Norway and it is shit weather. You have no idea how glad I am to be back in my hotel room.”  
  
“Is Gavin with you?”  
  
“Aye”, she said. “Also a good reason to be glad to be back at the hotel. We had some a bit too early dinner because I was hungry and Jack was hungry. Let me tell you Soph, I don’t like autumn. Autumn in our zones is shit.”  
  
“I don’t like autumn either, but why don’t you?”  
  
“It fucks with your body. Suddenly you’re catching colds and get tired 24/7. Maybe it’s just the winter blues you caught, Soph. How’s the weather over there?”  
  
“It was nice today, actually. Sunny and stuff.”  
  
“Have you been outside?”  
  
Soph’s stomach turned at the thought what had happened earlier with Alby.  
  
“Yes, but …”  
  
“But?”  
  
No, there was no need to tell Hannah about this. Just by tomorrow, she would have forgotten about it already.  
  
“But I wasn’t out there for long. So maybe it really wasn’t helping that much.”  
  
“Besides that, it’s not like a switch. And maybe you just didn’t get enough sleep.”  
  
“Oh yes I woke up at an ungodly time for a weekend.”  
  
“Seven?”  
  
“Nine.”

“Of course.” Hannah laughed. “I forgot with who I was dealing here.”  
  
“Thank you Hannah, how kind of you.”  
  
“Teenagers just do sleep a lot more, this was not directed at you. Not at aaall.” Soph heard the creak of a bed in the background.  
  
“Of course it wasn’t, why would it, ever. Oh man, why am I even calling you, I already had a talk with Harry today.”  
  
“The blokes are out, right?”  
  
“Rome and I don’t even know what for. Maybe for Harry to re-enact shitty romance movies with his new boyfriend.”  
  
“I am sure he is not – Gavin that tickles stop that, I said stop that you bastard! – “  
  
“Hey lil Sheep” Gavin said and Soph couldn’t help but laugh. “How are you?”  
  
“Did you steal Hannah’s phone?”  
  
“Am I that kind of nasty man? Soph you should know me better than this.”  
  
“I know you good enough to know that you are lying through your teeth” she said. “But hey, I’m fine! What about you?”  
  
“He’s about to get strangled by the love of his life”, Soph heard Hannah followed by the slapping of skin on skin.  
  
“I’m fine even though work’s drawing out and out” Gavin said. “I could fall asleep at the bloody table when I talk with them – Oi!”  
  
“Can you believe I am dating such an arse?” Hannah’s voice was back.    
  
“If my brother can get a boyfriend then so can Gavin! Well, a girlfriend.”  
  
“For a change. You charming bugger.” Soph heard Gavin chuckle, followed by the sound of a kiss. “So, where were we?”  
  
“If I’d be a charming bugger I’d also have someone by now.”  
  
“You are a charming bugger. If Gavin and Harry can get a partner so can you. So, Harry and the rest are in Rome for work.”  
  
“’Work’”, Soph said bitterly. “He even said it’s half vacation.” She sighed and ran one hand through her hair, cringing when it was wet and cold. “Like, I am kinda happy that I theoretically don’t have to worry but would Harry really only go to have a weekend off with his boyfriend of two months? Instead of spending it at home with me. Like would he really put this new guy over his sister, would – “  
  
“No, he wouldn’t”, Hannah interrupted her.  
  
“Yes.” She muttered the next words: “And even if, then at least Paddy would have stayed here.”  
  
“Sophie, do you really worry about Harry forgetting you?“ It didn’t sound like an accusation but an honest question.  
  
And it made tears dwell up in Soph’s eyes, not being able to believe that Hannah really cared so much about her, but absolutely terrified of the thought that Harry neglecting her was an option. She was almost offended by Hannah considering it at all.  
  
“No! No, maybe … maybe I just got clingy! You know, even though he was even more away once he was home from Sicily, he spent much more time with me! He even did some of his work stuff in the kitchen instead of his office!”  
  
“Soph, Sophie, calm down, I just asked. I didn’t want to upset you, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Harry’d never forget me”, she sniffed. “I’m sorry Hannah.”  
  
“Don’t apologise for crying. It’s okay Soph, I am sure he hasn’t forgotten you.”  
  
“It’s just for work” Soph sobbed. “Which doesn’t make it any better!”  
  
“Hey, lil princess, they are fine, I promise you” Gavin said, voice as clear as Hannah’s.  
  
“Soph, you’re not clingy and you're not alone” Hannah said.  
  
“I know I’m not.” She rubbed her eyes and snuffled. “I am just afraid that I’ll be one day.”

“We’re always here and so are your boys. We would never leave you behind” Hannah said.  
  
“You can’t guarantee it. But I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about me.” She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “I got this. I have to take care of myself.”  
  
“Soph, you really don’t have – “ Gavin said but Hannah interrupted him:  
  
“You don’t have to but I am proud of you that you can. You’re such a strong girl, Sophie.”  
  
Tears started to run down her cheeks again and her heart wanted to beat out of her chest of joy.

* * *

  
Today October was at its best and Francesco enjoyed the sun greatly – as well as he enjoyed the opportunity to wear sunglasses.  
  
“Isn’t it nice to be up this early?”, he asked the others but got no other response than Dolcetto rolling his eyes. He opened his arms and turned around: “Everything’s so empty. I love this kind of experience.”  
  
“Franci it is 7 am, shut the fuck up”, Dolcetto said, pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket.  
  
“You do the talking, I sit down somewhere in the lobby”, Gabriella said and yawned, pulling her shoulders up afterwards.    
  
“You should have put on a scarf this morning if you are cold”, Fabio said and she pressed her lips together as she looked at him.  
  
“She either doesn’t want you to be so mom-like or she secretly wants your scarf” Francesco said and Gabriella laughed when Fabio started to take his scarf off.  
  
“Keep it” she said.  
  
“Who would want this thing anyways” Francesco said and hurried grinning around the corner when Fabio raised his flat hand.  
  
“Don’t get cocky, the series barely started”, Fabio said and Francesco still grinned:  
  
“When else should I get cocky? When we lost all games?”  
  
Dolcetto grabbed Francesco’s arm and said “Car”, just when a fiat drove past the Neapolitan, only centimetres between them. Francesco stared at the car as it drove away; the driver honked.  
  
“You almost forget that you’re not the only one around this hour and season” he said and Dolcetto sighed:  
  
“I should have let them run you over.”  
  
Francesco pulled down his sunglasses far enough to look at him over their rim: “You’re spreading so much negativity today.”  
  
“Why the everloving fuck are you even wearing sunglasses?” Dolcetto replied. “It’s not that fucking sunny.”  
  
“That’s ... a secret.” He shoved them back up, pursed his lips for a second and walked on.  
  
Dolcetto slowed down for a second and furrowed his brows. He wasn’t even sure himself if it was out of annoyance or confusion.  
  
“Did he just whistle ‘Sunglasses at night?’” Fabio asked and Gabriella looked up at him:  
  
“What? I … don’t know?”  
  
“Nevermind”, he said and coughed while she turned around to look at Francesco.  
  
“Just one turn and then we’re there, right?” The Neapolitan asked. “Ah, I wish I could pay the Pantheon a visit this early. I just love the vibe it gives off.”  
  
“If it was going according to you, we would have to stop the time one morning so that you could roam Rome as a lonely soul” Gabriella said with a smile.  
  
“A lonely, empty soul, ready to be filled with the spirits of this city’s past.” He lowered his sunglasses again as they turned in at the Piazza della Minerva, which still lied in the shadows of the buildings surrounding it.  
  
He was surprised to see no doorman greeting them like it was common practice in many big hotels around this city. Maybe it was even too early for them, especially since it wasn’t tourist season.  
  
“What’s the plan again?” Dolcetto asked.  
  
“That Fabio and I do the talking because Gabriella seems to be too exhausted and so do you“, Francesco answered.  
  
“Thank you but I can decide this myself” Dolcetto said with a cold look. “So, what are we telling them?”  
  
“That we are either their relatives - which is your role Dolcetto, look a little sadder - hey, I – “  
  
“Fuck this shit”, Dolcetto muttered under his breath and Gabriella looked away while Fabio rolled his eyes.  
  
“Sometimes you’ve got to do things you don’t want to. I know you can ace that so do that”, Francesco said.  
  
“I didn’t ask for a motivation speech” Dolcetto said in a neutral tone.  
  
“Well then sorry for wasting time, let’s go”, Francesco said and stepped forwards but walked so slow that everyone passed him. A few meters away from the entrance, he grabbed Fabio’s arm, making the Milanese lean down to him. “Fabio, I don’t want to take my sunglasses off, despite Gabriella’s effort I still look tired as shit, the bag’s under my eyes are unholy.”  
  
“You are a tired lawyer, you had a long night”, Fabio replied.  
  
“Oh yeah with my accent I am surely a lawyer.” He picked at his collar: “They’ll think I stole this suit. The entire world will think I am part of the camorra!”  
Fabio looked him in the eye and he seemed very done for such a neutral face.     
  
Francesco pointed at him: “Shhht. Sht. This is not the camorra.”  
  
“Who would be unfriendly to the camorra, now stop this bullshit you literally just look tired.” He held the door of the hotel open: “We’ve got no time for your southern paranoia.”  
  
“Hey, you don’t label it as southern paranoia”, Francesco said and took his sunglasses off.  
  
“You sound dead serious good. Don’t say anything, I know you are dead serious, too.”  
  
“Watch your words my friend”, Francesco added and Fabio raised his eyebrows shortly.  
  
The lobby was empty except for them and two receptionists. Dolcetto’s and Gabriella’s heads immediately turned to them as they came in. They looked tired and nervous, scared even.  
  
“You might want to sit down” Fabio said and they both nodded.  
  
“We got this, don’t worry” Francesco said.  
  
The receptionist, a man and a woman, smiled at them when they came closer.  
  
“Good morning, Signori” she greeted them. “Welcome to the Minerva Hotel. What can we do for you?”  
  
“Good morning, Signora”, Francesco said. “We’re here to see someone.”  
  
“Our clients”, Fabio nodded in the direction of the Acerbis, “called this night. It’s about the Ventos.”  
  
“Oh, I understand”, she said quickly. “To who of them do you need to talk?”  
  
“All of them, but our clients need to talk to the Signori Vento first”, Fabio replied.  
  
“The Italian ones, sure”, she said and looked something up in the computer while her colleague just frowned at her.  
  
“I am afraid we have no reservation with the name Vento now, Signori”, he said and she cleared her throat, ignoring him:  
  
“Here are their room numbers – “  
  
“Could you write them down for us along with which room belongs to who?”, Francesco asked and the man looked seriously taken aback while the woman nodded:  
  
“Of course Signori.”  
  
“Thank you”, Francesco said, a weary smile on his lips.  
  
“I will go and tell the two”, Fabio said to him and Francesco nodded, eyes still on the receptionist as the Milanese turned around.  
  
“There you go”, the woman said and shoved a piece of paper over to him.  
  
Attention halfway caught in between the words of his colleagues behind him and the information in front of him, Francesco stared at the paper for a few seconds.  
Room number, floor number and the name or short description of their guest were neatly lined up.  
  
“Thank you”, he said once more as he heard the others coming closer. “How do we get to the rooms?”  
  
“There’s an elevator and a staircase if you turn to the door on your left” the man said.  “Do you need someone to guide you there?”  
  
“We’ll find it. Thank you for your cooperation.”  
  
“We hope you’ll solve everything peacefully Signori”, she said and Gabriella sniffed as the four headed for the elevator.”  
  
“What was that?” Francesco heard the man say.  
  
“It’s about those guys who paid with that bank account located somewhere in the nowhere, I am not here to question such people, Alberto!” the woman answered energetic before the door fell shut behind the four and cut out the rest of the receptionists’ conversation.  
  
“I am putting my sunglasses on again” Francesco said determined but Fabio slapped the hand that reached for them:  
  
“Don’t!”    
  
The elevator in front of them opened and as soon as the stepped inside, Dolcetto’s eyebrows turned into the other direction, nose scrunching up.  
  
“I hate this kind of acting”, he said when the door closed behind them. Gabriella stretched herself and shook her hands.  
  
“You were a very convincing sad boy, though”, Francesco said with a grin as they started to go upwards. One corner of Dolcetto’s mouth started to twitch when he glared at Francesco and grid his teeth  
  
“Back to business – Who takes on who?” Fabio asked. Gabriella crossed her arms, a frown on her face and her eyes on the floor. Meanwhile, Francesco’s look flit through the small space.  
  
“I want that old geezer” Dolcetto said.  
  
The others needed a few second to realize what Dolcetto had just said. The result was Fabio and Gabriella staring at him in disbelief and concern that they didn’t even notice a mad grin spread over Francesco’s face.  
  
“Dolcetto, I don’t – “ Fabio started firmly but was interrupted by Francesco bursting into laughter and slapping him lightly:  
  
“Oh no, no! Let this happen this is gonna be hilarious. Besides, what is he going to do, knock Dolco out? Throw him over his shoulder and stuff him into the next closet?” He laughed shortly and barely stifled it when Dolcetto stepped on his foot. He cleared his throat: “What I want to say: Mass is nothing when you’ve got to stick to etiquette. Any of us could go so let Dolco have his fun. Nothing’s gonna happen at a place like this.”  
  
“Well, alright then, Dolcetto goes for O’Neill”, Fabio said. Dolcetto looked as if he had half a mind to step on Fabio’s foot next while Gabriella gave Francesco a worried look and a sigh. “What’s with the rest?”  
  
“I’d take on our good friend Michele unless anyone else here wants to call dibs.” Francesco smirked from one ear to the other: “Since he just loves to see me.”  
  
Fabio nodded and said “Alright” when Francesco turned to Gabriella:  
  
“Really no calling dibs?”  
  
She smiled at him: “I thought about it, but I might lose my temper. You got this.”  
  
“You don’t have to hold back”, he said and she snorted, shaking her head.  
  
“It’s fine. But I want to be the first one to talk to him once we caught him.”  
  
Francesco returned her grin but before he could answer, Dolcetto asked “Give me that list Franci, I need to know where the fuck to go.”  
  
“Sure thing” Francesco answered and handed him the piece of paper while Gabriella looked at Fabio:  
  
“I vote that you take care of the twins. And I will wait for … Higgins? That was his name, right?”  
  
“It was indeed” Francesco said and crossed his arms. “I am very excited to see him again. Mark that, he’s the one _I_ want to talk to first once we got them.”  
  
“And if I had to face an entire fucking army, everything’s better than spending one more minute in here”, Dolcetto said as the elevator doors opened and he pushed the paper against Francesco’s chest. He stepped out, muttering the room number under his breath and yet he almost forgot it as Francesco called “Well, he’s almost the size of an entire army” after him. He hoped the Neapolitan still had seen the death glare he threw at him.


	13. Good Morning

Harry woke up when the light from the windows fell through the door as well. He needed a few seconds to remember where he was. The memories came back immediately when he heard Michele breathe beside him. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, before he got another look at him.  
  
He was still sleeping, head laid on the side and some streaks of hair fell into his face. The curl on the right side looked - as opposed to the rest of the bedhead - as untouched as ever.  
  
Harry chuckled and sat up straighter. He groaned while he stretched himself and only noticed Michele waking up when the sheets rustled and something brushed over the side of his thigh.  
  
"Did I wake you up?" Harry asked as Michele looked around before he brushed the hair out of his face with a frown.

"Maybe" he grumbled before he yawned and rolled over to lie on his side again, kissing Harry on the arm. "Buon Giorno, bello" he said.  
  
"Good Morning Darling" Harry said and caressed his head, fingers scratching the skin beneath the thick hair. Michele smiled and closed his eyes again and only opened them once Harry stopped, the smile dropping off his face.  
  
Harry laughed and pushed a streak of hair out of Michele's face: "Don't look so offended like a spoiled cat."  
  
"I am a spoiled cat, more petting for me, Harry" Michele said but turned on his back again before he sat up. "I get a strain in the neck when I have to look up at you." He yawned and rolled his shoulders while Harry just sighed and smiled.

"So, everything's alright with you?" Michele said and leant back onto the headboard like Harry, leaning in to him.  
  
"Sure" Harry only said and tried to kiss Michele but the Sicilian pressed a hand to his lips.  
  
"I don't think either of us wants to taste the other's morning breath" he said and felt Harry grin under his hand. He chuckled when the other flung his arms around him and pulled him close, pressing kisses to his cheek once Michele removed his hands. Harry's kisses wandered deeper, he kissed his jawline before taking care of his neck.  
  
Almost subconsciously, Harry started to press himself against Michele for better access and he noticed how the Sicilian’s breath took it up a notch.  
  
"Easy there, Harry, we're not alone here" he said and Harry stopped but didn't pull back.  
  
"Hm?" He sounded confused but looked up when Michele nodded towards the door of the bedroom.  
  
He couldn't see much of the couch in the other room but suddenly noticed the sound of breathing that belonged to neither of them two.  
  
"Ah fuck" he said after leaning his head on Michele's shoulder.  
  
"Not this morning" Michele said and pressed kisses to his head. Harry only frowned displeased while he stared at the doorway.  
  
"He's still sleeping" Harry said. "Might won't even notice. So why don't you just lie down or crawl on my lap and let me give you the kisses you love so much." He turned his head again, placing a kiss on his neck again before Michele slid back.  
  
"We can make out later once we're alone. Let's just get up and ready for today. We'll wake up Charlie and then get breakfast. How does that sound to you?"  
  
"Breakfast sounds good" he said and Michele looked at him for a few seconds with a smile, before he brushed a streak of Harry's fringe out of his face to kiss him on his forehead.  
  
"Love you" he said before folding the covers back and getting up to go the bathroom. Harry laid back down, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t know with what he was more annoyed, with having to wait until he could be alone with Michele or with himself sulking about it. His looks shifted from the ceiling to the lobby.  
  
_Fuck it, it’s not my job to be the drama queen._  
  
He wondered how Charlie felt. He'd definitely need water and breakfast wouldn't be that much of a bad idea either. Feeling thirsty himself, he got up and went to the minibar to pull out a bottle of water.  
  
"Hey, bello" he heard Michele say and looked around, choking on his water in the process.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked once he stopped coughing.  
  
"We didn't try out the Jacuzzi, so if you'd want to we could do this after fetching breakfast."  
  
Harry grinned. "Sure I do."  
  
Once he had collected his clothes from the small divan in front of the bed and threw his T-Shirt on, he walked over to the lobby.  
  
Charlie was lying on his side, arms in front of his face. He snored quietly every now and then. Harry went back to get the water bottle and place it on the couch table before he left Charlie alone.  
  
“So today’s going to be a lazy day” he said after joining Michele at the sink in the bathroom.  
  
Michele was examining his eyes. He dragged down his lower eyelid and slowly moved his head from side to side. Harry believed to see him frown every split second but those frowns were gone as fast as they came.

“Yes” he said. “Just a bath against the stress of yesterday and spending time with you. As I wanted to do from the beginning.”  He let go of his eyelid and smiled at Harry.  
  
“Sounds like a perfect plan to me” Harry said and scratched his head while he looked for his toothbrush.  
  
Michele chuckled whenever Harry buzzed upon hitting his tooth gap, which earned him displeased looks by Harry’s reflection.  
  
“You know, why don’t you take care of Charlie while I talk with Marco” Michele said after finishing. “I want to know what went down there yesterday. If it’s as bad as Charlie made it sound, he must feel at least angry as hell. Sure can help if he needs someone to talk with.”  
  
“Alright” Harry slurred before spitting out the toothpaste. Michele ran his fingers through his hair. “Then I’ll throw on some clothes and will be on my way.”  
  
“Do that, Honey” Harry said before Michele grabbed his chin and pressed a kiss to his lips.  
  
“One more for the way?” Michele let Harry draw him close again. He put his arms around the Irish’s neck as the French kiss ensued.  
  
“I’ll probably won’t be back anytime soon” he said afterwards, caressing Harry’s cheek.  
  
“Take your time.”  
  
After Michele let go of him, he grabbed the brush himself and Michele left to the closet.  
  
Just as he had found the woollen sweater that went so well with his jeans, someone knocked at the door.  
  
He frowned and looked at his boyfriend who sat on the bed with a book in his hands.  
  
“Maybe it’s Marco” Michele said and threw his sweater on, making sure it was a good fit before he walked out and into the lobby.  
  
“Could be” Harry said. “I don’t know if it’d be good or bad.”  
  
Michele stopped. “Good or bad?”  
  
“Good that we have him here so he can talk this shit out with Charlie or bad when he sees Charlie. Or smell him, talk about morning breath.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, it’d probably be for the better if we don’t confront either of them with the state Charlie’s in” Michele said with his eyes on the sleeping mess.    
  
The knock returned and Michele said “Coming!” as he went over to the door.  
  
“Buon Giorno Michele!” Francesco greeted him with a bright smile on his face.  
  
Michele threw the door shut at the speed of light and he couldn’t say if the bang was the door or his heartbeat.  
  
“What the hell – “ Harry asked but was drowned out when Michele yelled “Cazzo!” at the top of his lungs before turning around to walk away, only to turn his heel and flash the door an alarmed look. Just a second after that he was on his way back to Harry and heard a “No good morning for me?” from the door.  
  
“Shove your good morning up your ass!” he yelled back and almost walked backwards into the doorframe, yet reacted fast enough to turn around and push himself away with one hand.  
  
“Michele, what the – “ Harry asked again. He was on his feet by now and made a step towards Michele but stopped abruptly:  
  
“Found us. They fucking found us” Michele spat and time stood still for a few seconds. “Cazzo.”  
  
“Fuck it” Harry said. “Who’s out there?”  
  
“Belfari” Michele said. It took him a few seconds before he carried on. “I didn’t see anyone else, but frankly, I opened the door for about a second.” He snorted. “And he filled up the entire doorframe.”  
  
“Well, if it is really just Belfari, we can solve this easily and get the fuck out.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Let me wake up Charlie and take care of this.”  
  
Michele raised his arms, clenching his fists before he opened his hands and dropped his shoulders. “Harry … Harry, we can’t do this.”  
  
"Why can't we do this?" Harry asked. He sounded genuine but not as determined as before.  
  
"Because we can't do the first, risky things that come to mind" Michele replied. "I don't even know why he is here, to be honest. Is it for the painting?"  
  
"I am pretty sure it is for the painting" Harry replied but Michele was up in his own mind.  
  
"Honestly, I am surprised that they found out this early it was a counterfeit. They could just be here out of spite and oh, if it is, then this is a dick move and you are a sore fucking loser, Lovino.” Michele had started to gesture and it became faster with each word.    
  
"It's not important why they are here, that they are here is important. And what’s more important is what the hell we are gonna do about them.”  
  
"I am thinking, Harry" Michele replied. "Maybe we should only get the painting out - on the other hand, we could also just stay here. Wait them out. As if Belfari is actually going to do anything about it instead of standing around and play being a threat. This bitch. Playing morning sunshine just to annoy me. That’d be the childish stuff they pull. Well, if they want to lower themselves to that level, then fine. I thought Lovino could at least accept that he had ‘won’. Now he’s a sore fucking winner, too!”  
  
"So this is all just a game after all?" Harry interrupted him. All the tension that had fallen from his face seemed to appear in Michele’s now.  
  
"Excuse you?" Michele said coldly and Harry's eyebrows furrowed.  
  
"You don't sound serious about it at all."  
  
“I am stressed, how should I sound to you?! How does serious sound?!”  
  
"Not like petty complaining!”  
  
"I am not complaining, Harry, I am sorting my thoughts!” Harry didn’t know if he had imagined Michele leaning in to him but he knew if the other had stepped to him he would have flinched.  
  
"You are a whiny fucking drama queen. Just jumping from idea to idea! So Michele, how about you either start thinking about a real plan or tell me I have to save my own arse, because I will.” He stared Michele in the eye who returned it:  
  
"I am trying to come up with something, it's just ..." It didn’t sound apologetic, not one bit. It sounded defensive and solid.  
  
"It's just a, it's just a what!” Harry snapped. “Can I go back to reading my book because you two are childish little idiots to who this thing means nothing or is this guy out there actually – “ His words died with a gulp when Michele pressed his hands to his mouth. Reflexively, Harry pulled his hands up to push the arm away. They hovered around it, fingers crooked. Ready to grip.  
  
“Shhht! Not so loud! Harry that is … we need to be careful. Shit, we need to be careful. This is serious.” Harry put one hand to his arm and Michele pulled it away.  
  
“Oh, finally” Harry said in a grave voice.    
  
“Yes, you are right. Shit, I got you all into this thing, I will get you all out of it.”  
  
“We are no damsels in distress.”  
  
“This is still not your battlefield.”  
  
“Yes it is _ours_. We came here together, we got into it together and we’ll get out of it together. If you want to take the lead, though, then tell me what we do now.”  
  
Michele wrung his hands and took a deep breath.  
  
“Stay here, bello, and get dressed properly. I’ll go back to the door and check if there are more of them. Just a little bit of eavesdropping. Love you.”  
  
Michele wanted to kiss him but Harry turned away and yanked his arm up before he, pulling his t-shirt already over his head, went to the closet.  
  
Michele wondered if he had wanted to hit his face and just missed it or if it had simply meant to give him his space.  
  
Either way, he had flinched and felt queasy, even as he turned away.  
  
Charlie was still sleeping as if nothing had happened.  
  
Glad that he hadn’t put on shoes yet, Michele scurried to the door and waited. No noise came from outside and hesitantly he put his ear to the door.  
  
“Michele, eavesdropping is very rude” Francesco said and Michele jumped at being directly addressed.  
  
“But stalking me to my hotel door isn’t?” he replied.  
  
“We do what we’ve got to do. This is strictly business, Michele. We even would have called you, but you changed your phone number without telling us.”  
  
“I can’t even be left alone on my holiday? _Even if I change my phone number?_ ”  
  
“You have a very weird way of spending you holidays, my friend.” Michele could hear the smug smile in his voice: “I don’t think our gallery is listed as one of Rome’s tourist spots.”  
  
“Do I look like someone who does boring tourist sightseeing? And why should anything of yours be, that warehouse is in a damn shitty condition. Full of Rubbish. Lovino for example. And you.”  
  
“You definitely got up on the wrong side of bed today.”  
  
“My mood was perfectly fine until I had to see your face.”  
  
It was silent for a few seconds and Michele put his ear to the door again, desperately trying to hear if there was someone else or to catch any clue what was going outside the door.  
  
A rustle came from the room behind him and Michele threw a look over his shoulder, bumping his head into the door, cursing himself for it.  
  
Harry’s eyes met his, alarmed while he pressed one hand to Charlie’s mouth. He had try to sit up, propped him on his elbows and seemed to tense to fall back now, Michele could see his chest heaving up and down.  
  
Michele raised his hands and shrugged before he turned away again. He still heard how Harry sighed and, even when Michele tried to focus on what was going on outside, whispered: “Easy. Don’t make any unnecessary noise. There’s someone in front of our room.”  
  
Charlie’s words were muffled and Michele heard a little thud from outside against the door. He had half a mind to bang against it in the hopes it would make Francesco’s heart at least skip a beat.  
  
“Belfari. The guy with the pretty face” Harry answered Charlie’s unheard question.  
  
He had still heard nothing outside and turned his head away to glare at the Irish before threw his fist against the door with yelling “Don’t eavesdrop!”  
  
Charlie cringed, holding his head while Harry watched Michele storm off beside him to come to a hold in front of the window. He heard him mutter Italian under his breath and it sounded as rushed as his walk.  
  
“Michele, then just open the door, I only want to talk to you!” Harry wished he could understand more than just Michele’s name from Belfari.  
  
“Kiss my ass!” Michele replied and that much Italian he understood.    
  
“Jesus, can you all stop yelling” Charlie whispered underneath him.  
  
“Michele, what’s wrong now?” he asked when he walked over to him and compulsively he wanted to yank his arms upwards when the Sicilian turned to him.  
  
“That the ‘dude with the pretty face’ is still out there, that’s what’s wrong” Michele said and Harry sighed. During the few seconds of silence, Michele started to pick at the skin of his hand.  
  
“Do we have any more clue than we had before?” Harry asked and now the other sighed.  
  
“No. No we don’t and I have no fucking clue what to do.”  
  
“Is punching him now an option?”  
  
Michele rolled his eyes: “Not now, Harry.”  
  
“I think you mean not _yet_ ” Harry said and Michele pushed himself away from the windowsill to start pacing around the room.  
  
Harry’s look switched in between him and the door. But no noise came from the corridor; only the thuds of Michele’s steps and sighs and half-hearted burps from Charlie.  
  
And thus he noticed how Michele’s steps became faster.  
  
“So we’re fucked” Harry said.    
  
“Temporarily yes. We are fucked for as long as we can’t come up with a plan.” Michele kept walking as he talked and Harry believed to see skin gone white on his hands while the Sicilian gestured.  
  
"Wait, revolutionary idea - We give them the painting back" Charlie said. “They’re only here for the painting, right?”  
  
Michele’s supressed laughter sounded so fake and unamused it hurt Harry’s ears.  
  
“No Charlie” the Sicilian snarled after he had leant over the back rest of the couch.  
  
“Alright, I’m hungover, I can’t come up with some Mission Impossible plan” Charlie replied and laid back down on the couch. Harry opened the window and let in the cold air and the buzz of the million people city waking up.  
  
Arm on the windowsill and head out of the window, his look fell onto the church right to him.  
  
Not that praying would save them now.  
  
“Dio mio, dio mio, dio mio” Michele tried to invoke a higher deity nonetheless while hurrying up and down behind Harry.  
  
“Should I close the window before you jump out of it?” The Irishman joked half-heartedly, the Sicilian now hurrying over to him and for a second, Harry was really afraid he’d just let himself fall over the windowsill.  
  
“Well, if I am honest … The ornament does look pretty stable actually …” he said with a cocked eyebrow, the look of panic in his eyes gone.  
  
Harry couldn’t believe it.  
  
“Yeah, what a great idea!” the Irish said. “We are just gonna climb out of the window of this hotel placed at one of Rome’s main tourist attractions – ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS MICHELE?! WE’D FALL AND BREAK OUR GODDAMN BONES!”  
  
“Oh god Frecky, not so loud” a moan came from the couch. “You’re breaking my head!”  
  
When Michele’s eyes shifted to the couch with Charlie, he looked just as desperate as before while Harry gestured towards his friend:  
  
“Yes, great idea! I vote Charlie goes first because that alcohol corpse will just _ace_ that little parkour!”  
  
“It was just a fleeting thought!” Michele said to Harry. “Also, did you have to yell like that?!”  
  
“I felt like it!” was Harry’s response when realization dawned on both of them.  
  
As if Belfari had been able to see the alarmed looks through the door, he asked:  
  
“Was this Signore Higgins I just heard there? And so sick, too. I am curious what happened to you poor devil. Don’t you have your own room?”  
  
“As if I wouldn’t sound sick since I saw you” Michele growled before Harry pulled him near and looked him in the eyes:  
  
“Look Michele, either you will let me punch him or we need to work out another plan.”  
  
“I am not too sure if I should answer him …” Charlie asked and despite clearly having talked to himself he earned a “Don’t! Why should you even?!” from Michele.  
  
“Hey, why I was hungover is nothing they can hold against us!” Charlie whispered. “Even though the reason why I’m hungover is that I am a horrible human being.”  
  
“I still see no reason why should you talk with him anyways!”  
  
“Okay, either we get a plan or I will open that door!” Harry said.  
  
“We will get a plan!” Michele said. His look shifted to the window.  
  
“Michele, jumping to our death is not an acceptable idea” Harry stressed but Michele grinned at him:  
  
“I know someone who climbs very well. And you said _we_ will _get out of it_ together.”

* * *

  
Marco didn’t think he would sleep well after all the trouble of last night. He had expected nightmares or just feeling like he had been run over by a truck.  
  
But no, he slept safe and sound to the point the ring of a phone woke him up. His vision was still blurry when he started to look for it but he recognized Michele’s caller ID and answered the call: “Pronto?” Now that he laid down again, he saw that Lorenzo had sat up and stared in his direction.  
  
“Good Morning Marco” Michele said.   
  
“Good Morning Michele.” Marco wondered what time it was and pulled the phone away from his ear. He put Michele on speaker while his tired eyes tried to focus on the tiny screen.  
  
“I am sorry if I woke you up but it is kinda urgent.” Michele paused for a second and Marco stared at his phone before he shared a look with his brother. “Hannibal ante portas.” Marco tried to remember what the proverb meant when Michele added: “Quite literally, to be honest.”  
  
“What?” the twins asked in unison and Michele sighed. His voice was quieter when he spoke again:  
  
“Marco, Lorenzo, it’s important that you make sure nobody hears you. So please huddle together somewhere far away from your room door and put the phone off speaker.”  
  
Marco was wide awake now, any trace of sleep gone as he got up and tumbled over to his brother’s bed, both sitting down that they faced the window now.  
  
“Who’s at our door?” Lorenzo asked.  
  
“Did they found out about the painting?” Marco asked.  
  
“Well, they most certainly found us. Opened the door and got greeted by Belfari’s damned face and I am afraid that they also pulled that one with you.”  
  
The twins exchanged a look.  
  
“But Michele” Marco started  
  
“They don’t even know that we are here with you” Lorenzo finished.   
  
“Well, even if, they probably have found out that all those rooms have been booked together, even if I did use different names. Additionally, they could have caught you on camera.”  
  
“We were very careful!” Lorenzo said.  
  
“So I think we can cross the last one from the list” Marco carried on.  
  
“Of course.” The twins smiled. “But no matter how we got into this situation, we need to get out of it and I’ve got a plan. How fit are you?”  
  
“Fit as a fiddle” they answered in unison.  
  
“That’s great to hear because my plan to get us out of here is a little demanding on your part. I would like you to grab the case, climb out of your window and then get back into the hotel to distract the Italians in front of our doors – and to just check the overall situation, too, of course.” Both stared out of the window and furrowed their brows as Michele carried on. “Then you have to get out and away without getting caught. We’ll meet up again later, probably near the Termini.”  
  
Lorenzo and Marco looked at each other, both cocking an eyebrow and their head.  
  
Marco: “Before breakfast even? Sure.”  
  
Lorenzo: “Let’s spice our morning routine up a little.”  
  
“I wish I could count so well on everyone else as I can count on you. I love you. See you later.”  
  
The twins rubbed their heads after Michele hung up and Lorenzo got up:  
  
“Okay, here’s the plan – Wait, did he say the Termini?”  
  
“That’ll be an awful lot of walking for one morning” Marco said and yawned before he looked up at Lorenzo: "So the plan?"  
  
"Well, the suitcase we have is empty, right?" He walked over, picking up the empty case. "And what makes staying undercover easier after getting away? Changing your appearance!” He opened the suitcase and Marco grinned:  
  
"So we'll just stuff a bunch of tops or shit like it in there. Wait, Lorenzo, wait. Plus, things move different with a different weight, so it'll make it look more realistic. As if the painting was in there."  
Lorenzo grinned and shut the case again: "You've got it brother."  
  
“This is perfect” Marco said with the same grin.  
  
“That is bullshit" Paddy said at the same time, a floor away from them.  
  
"That's what we all think, old man, trust me" Harry replied from the other end of the line while Paddy stared at the door of his suite. The armrest of the chair he was sitting on was too small to be comfortable but the chair itself was too low and this morning had been bad enough already. No need to fold himself like a lawn chair and break his knees when it was time to get up again.  
  
"I hope I knocked him down" he buzzed  
  
"Who even is in front of your door?”  
  
"This little runt from yesterday" Paddy rubbed his eyes before he got up. "What was his name again? Something with A, ah fuck it."  
  
Harry cackled and Paddy felt the stress fall from his face and throat.  
  
"Paddy, you say knock down, I hope you didn't knock him out." He still had a giggling tone in his voice.  
  
"He only got my elbow in the face. It wasn't even planned, it just reflexively happened. Maybe I broke his nose but hell, what else. Maybe I will knock him out though. Who knows how we will get out else."  
  
"That was my plan, too,  but Michele has worked out a better one. A better one in his opinion because punching someone seems like such a good idea to me, too."  
  
"And what is his plan?" Paddy asked and listened as he went to the bathroom:  
  
"That the twins climb out of their room because they are close enough to another building and then distract all those Italians inside with their empty case. And during that, we will sneak out and Michele will make sure that we will get all of our stuff back while we figure a way out to get away from here."  
  
"Let's jump into the next train far away from this city, problem solved" Paddy said. "If we make this quick, we just need to make the rest quick as well."  
  
"If we can we should. Let’s hope they are not that desperate for their painting they’ll guard every way out of the city” Harry said. “Ah shit, our flight.”  
  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there” Paddy said and heard Michele's voice in the background, heard Harry answering:  
  
"Yeah he does, this terror toddler."  
  
He heard some more talking in the background while he looked at himself in the mirror. He scratched his chin, the scruff on his face thick, when he heard Michele's voice near and clear:  
  
"Paddy, buon giorno. So Harry has told you about the plan, great. I will tell the twins to come your way first, since you are the lucky fella with Signore Acerbi."  
  
Paddy heard the other man sigh and take another breath but spoke up first: “So they will get this runt out of my face and I will leave the place then. Without my stuff, if I got this right. Where do I have to go then?"  
  
"In the direction of the Capitoline hill – you know where this is? It’s ah, uh, close to the Vittoriano, this big white palace … we had a good view on it yesterday during dinner.“ Even if Paddy had wanted to get a word in, Michele spoke fast and with the same faint jittery undertone the Irish had already noticed earlier. “I think we'll already meet up again earlier on our way there and I guarantee you, you will get everything back in no time."  
  
“I’ll find my way there alone, I attract enough attention on my own already” Paddy said and his look went to the bathroom door.  
  
“Well, that is true. You know the drill, don’t you?”  
  
"I’m not wet behind the ears.”  
  
“Then – “  
  
“If that plan doesn't work out, it wouldn't be bad if I'd take care of this myself, now would it."

"Do what you deem as appropriate and the best way to solve the situation then, Signore" Michele replied.  
  
"Good" Paddy said. "Then let's hope that everything will work for the sake of me and this runt.”  
  
After he hung up, he started to put his hair up, get out his suitcase and looked for his plainest clothes. All of this happened automatically, he didn't thought beyond the emergency plan in his head. He didn't think about the bad feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think about the tone of voice Michele had fallen back into.  
  
"It's not you who brought you into this battlefield" he talked to himself. "Give this man at least a chance to establish himself. He was being serious, that’s how he is then. Business partners don't fuck each other over."  
  
"I feel a little bit fucked over by this morning" Gabriella said when she walked over to Francesco. "Because surely I was the only one who waited in front of an empty room. That would fit right in with the luck I was having the last days."  
  
“Oh Rella, my love, where is your positive outlook on life?” he said and she smiled before looking at the ground. "Look at it like this, it comes down to both of us getting what we wanted. You’ll get Vento, I’ll get the charming, dapper Irish.”  
  
“Franci, it is going to end badly one day with your fascination for people”, Gabriella said, “especially this kind of fascination.”  
  
“It’s fascination of the common, sympathetic kind. Although I admit it is strong.” He just grinned as someone from the other side of the door spoke up.  
  
“Give me more of those compliments, you handsome devil, because I am surely in need of something to build me up after last night.” Higgins spoke English and Gabriella stared at the door just like Francesco but with a vastly different expression. “If you’re talking about Frecky, though, then I will just curl up on the couch and be miserable some more.”  
  
Now Francesco flat out laughed while Gabriella looked upwards, her eyes flitting from left to right.    
  
“No, I indeed meant you, Signore Higgins” Francesco chuckled and the hearts of both Italians skipped a beat when something clearly banged against the door.  
  
“Sorry” Higgins said. “And that’s great, at least someone who’s happy to see me. Would be, I will not open the door.”  
  
“What a pity” Francesco said while Gabriela sighed heavily, looking around the corridor. “I would have loved to see your face again.”  
  
“I look like shit. But I would have loved to see your face again, too.” He chuckled quietly. “Even though I should stop flirting. Just because I am in hell’s kitchen already doesn’t mean I want to jump into the bloody cooking pot, too.” The Irish laughed quietly.  
  
“Just by flirting with me? Where’s the problem with that?”  
  
He received no answer and started to frown. When his stare turned unfocused, Gabriella knew he was thinking and yet decided to ask Francesco what the hell he was actually doing here. The second she wanted to open her mouth, the Neapolitan leant in to the door:  
  
“It’s about the Marco fellow, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yeees.” Higgins voice sounded even more muffled than before. “Even though the flirting wasn’t actually the worst, the flirting with others. No, others weren’t the damn problem, I was, me and my attitude with him.”  
  
“Oh, so I hear the sound of a broken heart” Francesco said.  
  
“It is the sound of absolute self-hate. Also, there are some hints of Guinness in it.” He laughed.  
  
Gabriella thought she was in the wrong movie.  
  
“Franci, I think we have enough own problems to worry about instead of playing complaint box for someone else” she whispered before clearing her throat:  
  
“It’d be much easier and much less tiring for all of us if you would open the door.”  
  
“Ah, Miss Acerbi. It sure would be but I won’t do it. You know how much it’ll get me in trouble? Not worth it on my behalf.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know.” Gabriella recognized Michele’s voice in a whim. “You can let Miss Acerbi in.”  
  
She sighed heavily before she crossed her arms:  
  
“So I suppose you would give me the painting back?” she asked, back to speaking Italian.  
  
“I don’t know what painting you’re talking about.”  
  
“Vento, I’ve had it with your games. This is becoming childish.”  
  
“This became childish from the second Lovino decided to be a sore winner and chased you to my door.” The change from playful to hostile made her clench her fists.  
  
"Just give me the painting back!"  
  
"Never! Only over my dead corpse I hand that back to Lovino! I’d give you anything else to fill that empty spot in your gallery but this one’s mine! Finders keepers!”  
  
"Fuck you Vento and give me my painting back!” Her words sounded probably louder than they had been due to the silence following them.  
  
Higgins was the one who broke it: “You talked really fast but did you say over your dead corpse?”  
  
Francesco and Gabrielle exchanged a look. Higgins Italian wasn’t accent-free and it was slow but clear.  
  
“Shut up Charlie!” Michele gave back.  
  
“What, I love it! It adds emphasis!” He laughed and sighed. “So, you guys, how has your morning been? Better than mine?” he turned back to the Italians.  
  
“Most certainly not” Gabriella snarled. “And this entire thing doesn’t make it any better.”  
  
“It is a little bit frustrating, to be honest” Francesco said. “I don’t mind our talk at all but I do have to question why exactly it’s you.”  
  
“Mundane reasons, I guess. Michele and Harry are pretty pissed about the whole situation, so no way I am going near that.”  
  
“And now the real reason.” Gabriella couldn’t and honestly didn’t want to believe this man was so careless.  
  
“Signorina, I am hungover and heartbroken. I’d probably talk with my archenemy right now if he could cheer me up. Ugh no, now I have to think of him. So much regret I can’t open the door.” Midway he had slipped back into English and this to and fro was starting to get on Gabriella’s nerves. “Because pretty people like the two of you would most certainly chase the bad memories away. Belfari’s face wipes any coherent thought from my mind to be honest.” Francesco still smiled shortly. “Oh, and also I would love to look all smug when I tell you that maybe it’s me because I was just a sweet little distraction?”  
  
From the other end of the hallway, they heard laughter and yelling coming closer with stomping steps.

* * *

 

Dolcetto used one hand to prop himself up on the windowsill, the other hand was on his nose. It didn't matter how often he thought to himself that this was wimpy and stupid as fuck, it _still_ hurt greatly.  
  
He wondered if this morning could get any worse.  
  
How much time had gone by since he had gotten the Irish's elbow in his face? Half a minute or an entire one?    
  
He put his hand down and sniffled. His nose felt numb and he believed to smell blood but he hadn't hit him that bad. There was nothing red on his hand.  
  
He wondered how the others were doing and especially how they were doing it. They were here to make sure they wouldn’t be able to leave. To get the painting back by force if necessary.  
  
So Dolcetto had seen no problem with knocking at the door after he had waited for a while already. He was swift and would have had the advantage of surprise if the others hadn’t fucked it up already. Thus he could had gotten into the room easily, which would had already prevented the other from leaving and then he could had looked for the painting or _anything_ useful. Undisturbed by O’Neill of course, Dolcetto would had made sure the other wouldn’t had intervened with him.  
  
His fingers had slid past the waistband of his jeans where they had met the hard rubber of a knife handle. It wasn’t an impressive weapon but it suited him the best; all of them were armed individually so they all could use their potential the best.  
  
Dolcetto had been prepared for everything.  
  
And what had happened? He had taken a step towards the door the second it had opened. He had turned slightly to his left, his arm pulled up that he could either punch with his left fist or with his right elbow and both had been aimed at the upper stomach.  
  
The old geezer wasn’t made out of steel. And even this giant of a man would be brought down to his knees by a punch to the kidney.  
  
He still remembered that O’Neill had stood there in shabby old jeans and a washed out T-Shirt. He couldn’t have been up for long. He sure as hell hadn’t been prepared when his eyes had grown wide as he had yanked his arm up.  
  
His arm hadn’t hit Dolcetto. Hadn’t even brushed his own arm. He had just pulled his arm up and Dolcetto had walked into his elbow.  
  
Of course it hadn’t been willingly, it was the leftover momentum of Dolcetto’s movement and of course O’Neill had pushed back once it had happened. After he had stumbled backwards, he had only heard how the door had been thrown shut while he had still tightly clenched his eyes.  
  
How could this old, big man move so fast? Where the hell had he taken the strength from to lift his arm faster than Dolcetto could stop?  
  
Yes, this morning could really not get any worse. At least he had gotten a taste of what he had really thrown himself into. Now he was fully prepared to stop this guy at any cost. Try and error.  
  
He sighed heavily and scrunched up his nose at the pain it caused. He grid his teeth when this of course caused even more pain.  
  
The sound of someone talking came from the staircase. It sounded like German, even though he had never heard the accents of the two. The women, a tall blonde with glasses and a chubby brunette in a sweater with a unicorn, didn't pay much attention to him, just shot him a look he returned.  
  
"Buon Giorno" the brunette said, almost immediately followed by her friend:  
  
"Buon Giorno."  
  
"Buon Giorno" he gave back half-heartedly and watched them until they disappeared around the next corner.  
  
No other sounds than that and Dolcetto wondered if this hotel was always so empty when the season was over.  
  
His nose still felt numb. Numb to hell and back aside from the nasty pulsing of his blood.  
  
A wounded pride and a wounded nose so far. The Irish were definitely up there with the Sicilians on the annoyance scale. More noises from above and lazily, he looked back to the staircase.  
  
Just in time for one of the Bontade twins to slide down the staircase, lying flat out on a case the perfect size of for the stolen painting.  
  
His confusion about his entrance, surprise about seeing one of them for the first time this weekend and his fixation on the case froze him for a few seconds.  
  
"Ouch!" the twin cried and coughed while his brother jumped down next to him:  
  
"Sneaky."  
  
Of course his steps echoed loudly enough for them to be a warning, of course they noticed him but he didn't care.  
  
The twin still standing turned his head and went from helping his brother up to jumping in a straddle-legged defensive stance right in front of the case. Dolcetto changed from charging them to come to a stop in the middle of the hallway.  
  
"Oh look, it's Piccolo" the other said while getting up.  
  
"Where? I don't see him from up here” his brother said. Now that he saw that nasty grin on his face, Dolcetto realized how little he really had missed them.    
  
"Now would you look at this" he said and they exchanged a look. “Either you are the worth at stealth on a level I yet had to see or this was the most stupid, staged entrance ever.”  
  
They wore the same jeans, the same shirt and the same trainers. Would they ever get tired of looking like fucking carbon copies instead of being proud of it.  
  
"Well, we really didn't plan on that" the one who had fallen said.  
  
"Brother just tripped over an uneven patch in the rug" the other said.  
  
"Shit service conditions in this hotel.” His brother said again and gestured towards Dolcetto. “Now it has a gnome infestation, too."  
  
"Our rating is definitely not going to be five stars" they said in unison and Dolcetto would have loved to stab them right here and now. Especially when the one with the case leant forwards.  
  
"So Piccolo, what are you doing here?" he asked and Dolcetto wasn’t taking chances with them delivering their annoying double sentences:  
  
"You know it, so why don't you hand me the damn case already?" he snarled.  
  
They both frowned and shook their heads:  
  
"We can't do this" the case one said.  
  
"This is nothing to be in the hands of kids" the other said.    
  
They both shifted their looks to the door of O'Neill and Dolcetto wanted to leap up and snatch the case out of their hand. Maybe if he grabbed the handle energetic enough he’d hit at least one in the face during the process, too.  
  
"Speaking of that, did you want to re-enact David versus Goliath?" one asked.  
  
"Did you even reach the doorknob or could we lend a hand?"  
  
"Could even one of you just shut up for once second?" They stood right in front of the window. Dolcetto imagined shoving them out of it and grabbing the case just before they were gone. Now that would finally something he would like to remember from this morning.  
  
"I ain't got time for your shit" he said. "So just give me that thing, you won't get past me. And I am not afraid to stab the backup one of you. Accidents happen, I am sure your _big brother_ had that in mind when he picked you up.”  
  
They had given him miffed looks before; by the end of the sentence they looked severely ticked off.  
  
"You wanna bet we won't get past you?"  
  
"You shouldn't say something like that when people only need one step over you to be over you."  
  
"But fine." Dolcetto wanted to cut through both of their throats just so he would never ever have to hear them say a sentence together. "Challenge accepted."  
  
And with that, they both hit the trail and ran back up the stairs.  
  
“I never thought I'd meet one person this stupid, let alone two!” he hissed while following them. They had barely entered the upper hallway when Dolcetto left the stairs.  
  
They chuckled as they ran and paid no attention to their chaser. A little ahead of them, the hallway crossed with two side corridors and the twins looked at each other before splitting up. Dolcetto only paid attention to the one with the case. Halfway into the corridor, the twin turned around without coming to a stop.  
  
Within a split second, Dolcetto considered to either come to a hold since this just seemed a little fishy or to keep running and Dolcetto choose running.  
  
The twin hadn’t looked at him during all of that; only now he made eye contact as he lifted the case over his head his head and shouted: “Catch brother!” before he threw it over Dolcetto’s head.  
  
Dolcetto tried to catch it, but it almost hit the ceiling and his fingertips didn’t even brush against it.  
  
At least this time he could use his momentum for something useful and didn’t even think of stopping.  
  
He bent his knees a few more degrees than necessary when he came back down and aimed at the Sicilian’s chest with his left fist when he came back up.  
  
The twin made an ugly gagging noise when Dolcetto hit his solar plexus and stumbled backwards but not out of the Italian’s reach. He fell after Dolcetto had pulled his leg up and managed to kick his hipbone.  
  
“Son of a whore” he said and it didn’t even take him to fully turn around to get a reaction.  
  
“Marco!” the other twin shouted before he glared at Dolcetto. “You little bitch” Lorenzo hissed and jumped back when Dolcetto came closer.  
  
“Oh shut up” he said and reached for the case while Lorenzo only dodged.  
  
After his hand grasped at nothing for the second time, he groaned and reached for his knife. The second his fingertips had safely gripped the handle, someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back with a jerk that Dolcetto almost lost balance.  
  
The hand disappeared, the case hit the underside of his jaw and Dolcetto saw stars when he hit the floor. He almost puked when he sat up again and got on his knees. His body would adjust, it was nothing bad. He shouldn’t have a concussion.  
  
_If this godforsaken Marco can still run_ , he thought as he followed their footsteps, _then so can I._  
  
He saw them dashing through a safety glass door and picked his pace up a notch when a room door in his way opened. He passed it too fast to see who was coming out but did hear them saying: “What’s up with all this noise?! You! Hey you! This is no – “  
  
“Shut up! This is an emergency!” he said before he pushed the door handle down and shoved it open.  
  
He didn’t saw anyone on the other side and almost fell over when he came to a stop. He felt dizzy, he had heartburn and his jaw crunched when he moved it.  
  
All because of these stupid twins which weren’t even his responsibility. Weren’t they Fabio’s or Gabriella’s task? How did they get out without being noticed? Or did they overbear them?  
  
“Hey Piccolo” Lorenzo said. Or whoever of them it was, as if Dolcetto cared when the two crossed the hallway in front of them, from one corridor to the other.  
  
He leaped forwards and followed them again as they ran down the hall.  
  
“Hey brother, I think we are close to our room!” Lorenzo said and Marco looked around:  
  
“You think so?”  
  
They turned around the corner and the second Dolcetto followed them, he saw Fabio down the hall with his eyes about to pop out of his head.  
  
"Fabio!" Dolcetto yelled while the twins laughed:  
  
“Think so! Buon Giorno Fabio!” they greeted him and Dolcetto wondered what he mouthed to himself as he took a step back, spreading his arm to catch Marco.  
  
But Marco simply leaped forwards and made a dive roll under the other's arm while his brother threw the case. It hit the floor and Lorenzo ducked away from Fabio's attempt to catch him while Marco was back on his legs and snatched the case.  
  
Dolcetto passed the Milanese but only seconds after, Fabio was running next to him.  
  
"How did they get out?!" he asked him while his eyes were on the twins who were climbing the next staircase.  
  
"Magic!" Marco said and they laughed.  
  
"Not through the door” Fabio said. “Doesn’t matter now, anymore; what has happened? Why are you here?”  
  
"They came down the staircase in front of me” he said at him and grabbed the handrail to swing himself around the corner.  
  
"Have you crossed the others? Told them?” Fabio asked and pushed the safety door open.  
  
"Didn’t see anyone and didn’t quite have the time!” Dolcetto said. He felt his stomach rumbling and was afraid that it would give in. "Was more focused on getting shit done! Also I thought other people would do their job!”    
  
"Fair enough" Fabio said. “All more than fair enough!”  
  
Dolcetto wondered if the twins shouldn't get tired by now or what was fuelling them to still jump around like some spring lambs. Surely wasn't adrenalin and anger like him.  
  
"Why are they running upwards?" Fabio asked and Dolcetto panted when he started to take his speed up a notch again.    
  
"Who the fuck knows I don't but if they want to corner themselves on the roof, they are free to do so!"  
  
He stumbled over the first step of the next staircase they were at and almost sprawled if Fabio hadn't grabbed the collar of his jacket.  
  
He didn't know how fast he would have gotten up this time.  
  
_Just as fast_ he decided when he heard the Sicilians laugh.  
  
"I thought for a second Fabio would pick him up!"  
  
"He should! Making so many steps must be awfully tiring for those tiny legs."  
  
"Come here you motherfuckers!" Dolcetto shouted before he started to sprint. His head started to throb, his face hurt and he hoped his vision focused like that on the twins because he just wanted to _get them and throw them to the floor._  
  
"Buon Giorno Signori!” the twins laughed as they turned into the corridor right in front of the one Gabriella and Francesco were standing in.  
  
And of course they didn’t go without throwing the case once more.  
  
"What in the - " Gabriella said, cut herself off by running after them like Dolcetto did. Now running alongside with his sister he noticed that Fabio wasn’t close anymore but a whistle and "Franci! This way!" cleared it up.  
  
Dolcetto and his sister only shared a look before they reached the next staircase  
  
He could already hear the noises from above. The clatter of plates, the hissing of fire and of course the chatter of people talking.  
  
“Scusi!” the twins said when they ran through the lines up tables of the roof garden’s conservatory.     
  
People turned, some frowned, others turned to talk with their friends while a few cried for the staff.  
  
“Scusi, my fault!” Gabriella said when she almost bumped into a waiter while Dolcetto noticed Francesco and Fabio from the corner of his eyes on the other side of the roof garden.  
  
He used one empty table to push himself forward when one of the staff members grabbed one twin’s arm.  
  
“This area is not for guests!”  
  
“There’s an emergency exit!” Lorenzo said and dashed away to kick the door to the outside area open.  
  
“And this is quite an emergency!” Marco and yanked his arm free, pointing at the four Italians following them before jumping over to his brother.  
  
“Stay there!” Gabriella yelled and jumped over the threshold. She reached the thick safety door the second Marco threw it shut. Something fell against the door when she grabbed the handle and yanked at it. The door gave in one centimetre before it stopped with an ugly sound.  
  
No matter how hard Gabriella threw herself against it.  
  
“No! This … those sons of a bitch!” she cried before banging her fist against it once more.    
  
Dolcetto grabbed the staff member’s arm when he reached for his sister: “Signorina – “  
  
“It’s fine, we apologise for the trouble” she replied and pushed herself away from the door. “It was just a little important.”  
  
Dolcetto took a look over his shoulder but Fabio and Francesco were nowhere to be seen. They probably were on their way downstairs again to catch the twins once they got out.  
  
He should follow them just in case –  
  
He jogged over to the conservatory and made a quick jump over the threshold. His shoe caught on and he tripped, falling flat out to the floor.  
  
And he had no desire to get back up. He had the desire to rip his godforsaken jaw off and fling it away where it wouldn’t bother him anymore. Or to puke his stomach out, _did it have to smell like fucking food so much here?_  
  
“Dolcetto!” He turned his head to look at his sister who had hurried over to him. Had she hurried or taken her time and he had been lying here for a few more seconds than he had thought he did?  
  
“Don’t worry about me!” he said though and waved her hand away. He slowly sat up, holding his chin.  
  
“Signori, I must ask you to leave – “ the staff member who still followed Gabriella said and Dolcetto glared at him.  
  
“We’ll stay here. Just for a few more minutes.” Gabriella said. “My brother just tripped and is obviously not alright and I am not willing to carry him out because we get bothered instead of those lunatics who blocked the emergency exit!”  
  
“Singorina, you are disturbing – “  
  
“I would not have to raise my voice if I would not have to argue with you, Signore! And I would have not disturbed anything here in first place if you had done a better job at stopping these twins!” She gestured to the emergency exit and before he answered, she turned to Dolcetto: “Hey, let me help up and get you a chair. Do you want me to get you anything?”  
  
_Don’t care so much for me, I’ll be fine, you should care more for the others –_  
  
His jaw hurt when he only opened it.  
  
“No Gabriella”, he said and let her help him up.  
  
One of the figures in the small street across from the hotel turned his head to look up to the roof.  
  
“Don’t dawdle!”  
  
“It was just one second, jeez Frecky!”  
  
“You dawdle, Michele snaps at me!”  
  
“That’s not true!”  
  
“Oh it is, keep moving!”  
  
He turned around and pulled his hood deeper into his face when he followed the other two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Piccolo_ means _small one_ in Italian.
> 
>  _Hannibal ante portas_ is a proverb that means impending doom. 
> 
> The _Termini_ is Rome's main trainstation. It's also a bus and metro station. Translated it simply means train station, too.


	14. Caught Up

Sophie had really wanted to give it another try with the muffins but after she had cleaned up the kitchen and made two litres of tea to hydrate herself again, the couch had looked comfortable. _Really_ comfortable. She couldn’t remember the last time when a couch had looked this comfortable to her.  
  
It had been no false advertisement either, because soon after Soph had lied down, she fell asleep.  
  
When she woke up again, she couldn’t make out any colours beside grey and black in the room. She looked for her phone on the couch table next and when she couldn’t find it, she looked around the room for the clock.   
  
If her sleep-riddled eyes didn’t kid her it was half past seven and Soph groaned.  
  
Either she had taken yet _another_ nap or she had woken up at ungodly hours for a weekend once more and she didn’t know which of the two outcomes she found worse.  
  
“Well, my tea’s stale now either way” she grumbled to herself while running her fingers through her hair and taking her hair tie and bobby pin out. After she had ruffled through it once more, she examined the couch and found her phone behind the pillow in between arm rest and cushion.  
  
The phone only had a few percent of battery left, which was nothing unexpected and neither were the messages or the missed call from Maeve.  
  
After she skimmed all of her messages, she actually remembered to go back and check the date and time. The fact that it was indeed Sunday didn’t even came as a surprise to her anymore, despite her state of grogginess she had figured it had been already after half past seven when she had gone to ‘bed’.  
  
“What in the actual hell am I doing with my life” she asked herself when she sat back down on the couch. She leant her head back and closed her eyes. From something as simple as baking muffins she had become so bummed out that she had fallen asleep on her couch within seconds, not to mention that her exhaustion also came from –  
  
“Wait, did I turn the alarm system on last night?”, she asked herself and was suddenly startled, her heart started racing and her head pounding.  
  
Until a voice in her head answered _You never turned it off during the afternoon, sweetheart._  
  
She had definitely not missed the condescending tone this voice liked to display but took a deep breath and got up to go to the kitchen before she could think of anything regarding Alby at all. Not that this ever worked.  
  
_Oh, I think you might have pissed him off yesterday. If I was you, I wouldn’t go outside today or in fact anymore until your brother is there. I mean, either your anxiety kills you because you just overreacted and accused a perfectly nice, fine neighbour of being a creep or that you were right and he won’t stop._  
  
“Shut up” she said and rubbed over her eyes when she poured herself a cup of tea and put it in the microwave to reheat it. “Just shut up.”  
  
For this voice to shut up she had to busy herself today, busy herself all day, but she barely had an idea how. There was the muffin business, of course, and oh, she could and should look after the dried leaves, maybe already start making decorations out of some? Soph remembered cutting some leaves into pumpkin shapes a few times the years before and Halloween was around the corner anyways. She hoped Harry would be around this year and maybe they could go to a party; Soph hadn’t been to one with him since she had been 14.  
  
“But we don’t have costumes” she had said when Harry had asked her if she wanted to tag along.  
  
“Damn, that’s right” he had said. “But do we need ones?”  
  
“I’d feel stupid. This is a real Halloween party, isn’t it?” she asked almost reproachful. “Not one of those were there are nothing but adults who only use it as excuse to get wasted and then I’ll be one of those only weirdos wearing a costume.”  
  
“No, it’s a real one, hey, today’s the only day to have an excuse to wear something weird and I wouldn’t drag you to a party full of squares, anyways” he had answered but then it had grown silent.  
  
“Then we are the weirdos without costumes” she had said but hadn’t dared to ask Harry if they then couldn’t just spend the night on the couch watching Halloween movies and shows together. She hadn’t wanted to be selfish and make Harry or just about anyone of her family stay at home with her _again_ instead of doing something _they_ wanted.  
  
“We’ll find something, yeah?” he had said. “Or we just show up and say we are Weasleys” he had then joked but Soph still remembered how only a second later the look of enlightenment had spread across his face. “We are _so_ doing this, come here Ginny, maybe we can even find some sweaters or we find some other Harry Potter stuff but even if not, we’re just going to go with it. I’m Ron, yeah?”  
  
Soph had just grinned at her brother’s enthusiasm and the idea itself. “But you’re much older than me, maybe you should go as Percy or Charlie or as one of the twins.”  
  
“Then I’d lack a twin” Harry had answered. “And those two are inseparable.”  
  
“Yes brother, how could I forget” she had said and had giggled again, “that there are only six books.”  
  
The beeping of the microwave jolted her out of her thoughts and she turned it off before she leant against the kitchen counter.  
  
No, they had only found wands this day but they did buy such sweaters afterwards and Soph was almost overwhelmed with sadness when she remembered that she had grown out of hers. She couldn’t even remember where she left hers but on the other hand she _knew_ it had to be somewhere.  
  
It hit her, suddenly and out of nowhere, that she had never thrown out any kind of clothing since her father had died.  
  
Yes, socks with holes, blouses with lacking buttons, ripped tights, all these things had found their way into the trashcan, but as Soph had grown, both in height and circumference, she never once had thrown anything out, just sometimes put the ill-fitting clothes into a box when there was no space in her closet anymore. But those boxes had always found their way onto the attic or into the guestroom.  
  
She even still had her first bra, which was ridiculous. Soph had remembered how much she had bugged her father for one because she was 12 already and obviously becoming a woman by then. Nowadays, Soph wouldn’t even get it around her chest and it couldn’t cover half of her boobs.  
  
But she remembered the blue underwear with white stars, particularly because there hadn’t much time passed since she had sorted it out. Where was it now? In another box she had put outside her room one day, which had been gone a little while later, brought onto the attic by Harry for sure.  
  
Nothing had been the same since her father died, Soph mourned everything that she had lost along the way up to now, but in this moment she felt like her life had stagnated.  
  
Of course, Harry had given her the sheep farm for her 16 th birthday and of course she wasn’t doing the _exact_ same things she had been doing when she had been 13. She had grown and moved on and found new habits and hobbies but she still fell back into old patterns and trying to revive old things had been all she had ever done when she had spent time with Harry. How should she have been trying anything new? Time with Harry had always been limited, could be over to quick when work called him and came too suddenly most often that she had the wits for something new.  
  
No, when she had time with her brother or even Paddy and Charlie, she wanted to forget that these moments had become rare. She _wanted_ those moments how they had been before her father had died.

Those moments had always been small intimate gifts from the past until Sicily happened.  
  
A few days after these events, she had told Harry how she had noticed the ivy getting out of control. She had paid no mind to it, Harry had seemed to just catch a break from work when she had told him and she herself was just back at home after she had spent another few days with her sheep.  
  
When she had gotten up the next day, he had been outside, balancing on a small ladder that probably hadn’t seen the light of days for 10 years and handling a pair of shears that were only held together by faith and rust.  
  
After he had been done, he had proudly looked at his work before telling Soph: “And now we get to go breakfast at the bakery around the corner. And before that we go to the pharmacy and ask for everything they have against poison ivy rash.”  
  
Then he had fallen from the ladder onto his arse, which had a big part in making that day perfect for her, aside from him spending almost all of it together. After breakfast, they had gone to the mall and had looked around in the shops more to talk about what they saw for than any actual shopping. So conversations along the line of “This t-shirt looks stupid as fuck, let’s wear it”, “This electronic device is so oddly specific and I have never heard of the purpose it’s used for, we have to buy it”, “Okay, many of these books are pretty cool but we could also go and look for the trash ones and make fun of them” ensued.  
  
Some of the stunts they pulled made Soph wonder why they were still allowed at the mall, especially because ever since that day in August, it has not been the last day she had spent time with Harry there. She also remembered trips to the park and countryside where Soph had been just as interested in any kind of livestock they passed as in the historical sites such as castles and small towns they had visited.  
  
Soph remembered the talk she had with Hannah yesterday and wanted to look thoughtful into her cup of tea until she remembered that she hadn’t taken it out of the microwave.  
  
Careful to still look super thoughtful into her cup when she stirred it for the sugar to dissolve, she thought about the last months.  
  
Something had changed, but it was clearly not her. Caring for her sheep, going to school, watching TV, reading books and meeting Maeve and other friends – all _she_ had done since that last week of July had been routine for her.  
  
Harry had changed. She literally told Hannah yesterday that there had been remarkably positive things about his behaviour.  
  
Yes, he had also been abroad more since the entire business things with this Sicilian family and he still could spend almost an entire day in his office, whether it was just the room upstairs or the building in the city. Soph couldn’t mind it when in return she now sometimes found Harry waiting for her at the school gate after the lessons had ended to take her home or go on a short trip wherever. She now decided that she also had been right when she wondered if Paddy had stopped by their house more often without even glancing at the office upstairs.  
  
The reason why she hadn’t been too sure, was that during the summer break, she hadn’t run into any of the boys for more than two days straight. They had been in Sicily and Scotland while she had been at home and they had been back in Ireland once she was at her farm.  
  
It did make her happy that despite the still little time they had, it had been spent together in new, fun ways, but the reason why there still was so little time in first place was so stupid it made her mad.  
  
Yes, she did understand that Harry had to go for work and simply assumed he hadn’t just made any of the trips to Sicily solely to take Michele out for dinner, but she also _knew_ this guy had been here and it must have always been when she was away.  
  
That Harry had to split his time up in between Ireland and Sicily just due to work alone was understandable.  
  
_How_ he chose to do this pissed her off. Only because he wanted to keep his boyfriend an absolute secret just so … just so what even? If he trusted that man enough to let him sleep in his own damn bed what was so hard about trusting him enough to meet his little sister? Or was this just a business fling, an affair, fun stuff to do beside work?  
  
Soph raised an eyebrow and stared distraught into her tea at the thought of her brother having a sex affair, only to discover the streak of her hair was hanging into her cup.  
  
Man, Soph had just thought about much more than people should have ever have to think around this time of the day and felt happy, down and pissed off all at once.  
  
Baking muffins would surely help getting her feelings back on track.  
  


* * *

  
“I can't believe this bullshit”, Harry said when he passed them. “Don't follow me, hopefully I'll be back soon!” he added before he hurried upstairs.  
  
“What in the name of ...” Michele asked and Paddy frowned as he looked after him:  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
“Finding some fucking hot tea!” was Harry's answer before he went out of sight.  
  
“Harryyy”, Michele said pained next to the Irish as if the word was stuck in his throat. Then he sighed and turned around: “I can't believe he's doing all of this of a cup of tea.”  
  
“I have seen Harry doing much worse for a cup of tea” Charlie said. “And any that isn't iced it's pretty damn hard to come by in this country.”  
  
“Well then he can drink coffee like every other normal person” Michele said, looking away when he earned questionable looks from Charlie and Paddy.  
  
“Still probably shouldn't run around like this for nothing but a cup of tea” Paddy muttered and looked around again.  
  
“True. I’ll go after him” Charlie said and Paddy looked at him.  
  
“Good idea” he then said and Charlie sighed before he got up and adjusted his hoodie. “But don’t run after him come hell or high water, we just need to know he’s safe and not attracting attention.”  
  
“And what if I want tea myself?” Charlie asked grinning and Paddy rose an eyebrow.  
  
“I dare you, I don’t need two distracted tits” he said and Charlie's grin just grew. “I am not going to watch out for your arse, too.     
  
“Damn lad” Paddy said to himself when Charlie disappeared out of sight as well.  
  
Michele watched the faint smile on the Irish's face faint before a cautious, bored look came onto his face again and he turned his head.  
  
Most of the people passing them around this time were wearing some kind of business attire and Michele wondered if he should have just put on a suit and the nice coat he had bought recently. It most certainly would make the case in his hand look more unsuspicious than the lined leatherjacket and dress-shirt pullover combo he wore underneath it. Chatter from behind him interrupted his thoughts and he blinked when he saw the twins coming out of the restrooms.  
  
Lorenzo's red sweater and baggy jogging pants, which were tucked into felt filled sneakers, were quite the contrast to Marco's outfit: White blazer, a deep green dress shirt, washed out, light grey jeans and blazing white trainers with the Adidas stripes and logo in gold. As he lifted his case, the sleeve of his blazer slid back and revealed a golden watch.  
  
If one wouldn’t pay attention to their faces now, nobody would mistake them for twins. People who were used to them looking like carbon copies would probably just blatantly miss them for the fact they weren't looking like a pair.  
  
“Perfect” Michele said and the two turned their head, smiling at him. “Although, aren't you cold Marco? A blazer and a shirt are not really appropriate wear for this month. November is just around the corner.” Marco rolled his eyes.  
  
“Sorry I couldn't fit a trench coat in there as well” he said and Lorenzo snickered.  
  
“Besides, are we really gonna spend much time outside?” Lorenzo said and Marco nodded.  
  
“Who knows, maybe we should just try and walk out of Rome” Michele said and looked around before sighing and throwing one hand up: “Great, now you are here but Harry's running around with Charlie.” When he looked back, Marco's face took one second too long to go from uncomfortable to questioning.  
  
“Why?” he asked in unison with his brother.  
  
“Harry needs a cup of tea or else he will probably die and Charlie's looking out for him. Let's hope they are back in the next couple of minutes.”  
  
The twins just frowned before they looked around.  
  
“Marco, I also wanted to ask if you wanted to talk with me about … something” Michele said and Marco flinched before he looked around.  
  
“With you? Nothing special, really” he then answered, facing Michele only for a split second while doing so. “Unbelievable to hear this from me though, but I'd love me breakfast right now.”  
  
“Talk about it brother” Lorenzo said. “I wouldn't even mind something full blown, continental right now.”  
  
“Oh poor boys” Michele said. “We'll take care of that later, I promise.”  
  
“Surely can't be the only ones” Lorenzo said and looked over to Paddy.  
  
“Yeah, I wonder how he made it up till now with no breakfast” Marco said.  
  
“Fairly? I’m asking this myself” Michele said and it took the three another second before they realized Paddy was staring back them with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Scusi” Michele said when the twins looked away. “We were talking about breakfast. At some point, we should get something to eat.”  
  
“Yes, if we can find the time for that” Paddy said and held eye contact for another second before he leant back and stared up at the stairs.  
  
In the meantime, the twins had settled a few meters away from Paddy, Lorenzo sitting on the case, legs spread and heels pressed together while his brother was standing in front of him.  
  
When Michele looked around again, he wondered why he had actually allowed Harry to get his goddamn tea. They had just aimed for the Termini for a quick look at the situation and for the twins to change. Michele had almost run into someone he recognized as subordinate of the Vargas at the ticket stations so he had decided that leaving Rome from here was a bad idea, just like staying at the Termini for a longer amount of time. He was sure, once the Italians actually gathered themselves, this place would crawl with their henchmen and spies.  
  
And yet, how bad could it have been to look for tea in this situation? This bad.  
  
Michele’s hand cramped around the case as he realised the state of mind he was in, the feeling he had while being so. In hindsight, he recognized it wasn’t even the first time today.  
  
_Well, Harry’s tone just then did justify it in a way and honestly, his behaviour now even more. This is my mission and it’s important, very important for him, too. Understanding that even all fun and games is never fun and games in this business seems to be something he still has to learn –_  
  
_You’re training your lover like a puppy now? What shall I be, disgusted or proud of you?_  
  
Michele didn’t know what was worse, the other voice itself or his own thoughts resembling it that much.  
  
“Oi Michele, remembered something important?” Paddy shook him out of it. “Or what’s this aghast look on your face now.”  
  
_No, but I’ve heard a ghost._  
  
“It’s … It’s nothing Patrick” he said and switched the arm with which he was holding the case, quickly looking over to the twins who were staring at him now. “I was just worrying a little too much.”  
  
“Well, is there something to be worried about?” Paddy asked and Michele smiled friendly at him:  
  
“No, nothing, if Harry comes back.”  
  
“Ah” Paddy said and rolled his shoulders before the suspicion left his tone; he sounded almost upbeat now. “That’s good then.” Michele looked at the twins who turned to each other again just that second when Paddy spoke up once more: “By the way … you don’t have to say Patrick all the time.”  
  
Michele sighed once through his nose before he went over to the Irish and sat down next to him: “I guess it comes off as weird when everyone else calls you Paddy.”  
  
Michele still kept the smile up when Paddy started talking. The Irish’s smile felt nothing like forced at all: “There used to be a pair of people who called me Patrick a lot. It’s a … experience to be called Patrick by someone younger than me.” He sighed and looked away.  
  
“I’ll stop using it if it has some sort of bad connotation” Michele said, the smile finally having vanished from his face but Paddy chuckled:  
  
“It’s not a bad connotation. It was just always used so formally around me, but you do you in the end. I’m Paddy to everyone, but if you want to go on with Patrick and then Signore O’Neill when we are doing business, that’s not bothering at all.”    
  
“Well, we are kind of at work here” Michele said. “Knee deep into it.”  
  
“And yet we are sitting here and just having small talk like acquaintances, not businessmen.” Paddy glanced at him from the corner of his eyes and even with the smile, even with the friendly tone, there was something furtive about him that made Michele’s stomach turn: “Or do you insist on me calling you Vento right now?”  
  
“Of course not” Michele said and smiled again. Paddy closed his eyes shortly and whatever had made him look so cold was gone when he opened them again.  
  
“I just want us on good terms private-wise as long as you kiss my boy” he said and Michele couldn’t help but frown before he clenched his eyes and grinned.  
  
“Did I say something weird?” Paddy asked, cocking an eyebrow while still smiling.  
  
“You worded it … very interesting, Patrick” he only said and couldn’t help but chuckle when the other did it as well.  
  
“Mate, this is tasting like dish water, you don't want to drink it.” Harry was walking down the stairs with Charlie at his side and a big plastic cup in his hands.    
  
Charlie shrugged and cocked his eyebrows shortly with a smile before his expression turned into discomfort: "Oh man that I know that you know how dishwater tastes makes this much more disgusting."  
  
"50 Euro are 50 Euro for fuck's sake" Harry said and took another sip from his cup.  
  
"Bloody dishwater, you nasty" Charlie said when Michele got up again:  
  
“I see you finally got what you wanted bello, time to go then.”  
  
“And where to?” Harry asked. “Do we finally have a plan?”  
  
“One in the short run, yes. Rome’s too big to monitor it all around properly, in such a little time anyways, so getting out of here to anywhere else in the city is going to buy us enough time to finally sit down and think.”  
  
Paddy stood up right next to him and Michele flinched. Paddy had been almost on eye level with him; he had totally forgotten that the man had still been sitting.

“Well, alright then.” Harry sounded so disinterested. Michele didn’t think he had heard one affectionate word from Harry towards him ever since the Italians had showed up at their door. “And where exactly are we going then?” he asked again and Michele took a deep breath before he sighed:  
  
“Ah yes, good question. We need a landmark, a landmark, something specific to meet …”  
  
“Means we’re going to split up again” Harry said. “Walking?”  
  
“Two cabs should do it” Michele muttered. “What’s discreet enough … maybe the Theatre of Marcellus? It shouldn’t be the first place to look – The Vatican!” He cleared his throat before he gestured with his free hand: “Yes, that’s a great idea. It’s Sunday and even if the weather will get worse, it’s going to be crowded there.” Michele pulled the cotton hood of his jacket over his head: “Well then, I’ll take the back exit and walk a little before I haul one, you maybe try the main station. See you in front of Saint Peter’s Square. Take care of you.”  
  
“We won’t die” Harry replied. “But you, too.” When another second passed, he turned around and to his friends: “Alright, let’s go.”  
  
As they were walking away, Harry took another sip of his tea and Paddy asked him “Wasn’t worth it?”  
  
Harry’s response “At all” and Paddy’s laugh was the last thing Michele heard before he turned, the twins standing right in front of him now.  
  
“We’re going together, too” Lorenzo said.  
  
“We suppose, at least” Marco added and Michele nodded, passing them and gesturing them to follow him.  
  
There was no trace of the Irish when he threw a look over his shoulder, only his little brothers and for a split second, an odd feeling of comfort accompanied the picture. It turned into a cold shiver running down his spine immediately and he turned his head to what lied in front of him.  
  


* * *

  
Dolcetto felt as if his head would burst any second. He had involuntarily fallen asleep on the ride back to the office and it was only due to the painkillers that he was able to stay awake now. At least his jaw didn’t hurt anymore when he moved it.  
  
Lovino also looked as if he’d burst. He had been trying to fix his suit, but his motions had always grown too erratic, even if his hand had been calm at first, he'd tuck and picked at the sleeves, collar and jacket within a matter of seconds.  
  
Dolcetto didn’t know where he had thrown his suit jacket by now.  
  
He caught Feliciano’s eye when he was staring over the top of his laptop again and quickly looked down, followed by the rattling of keys. He had busied himself with the laptop ever since they had come back and Dolcetto was wondering what exactly he was doing.  
  
Fabio beside Feliciano had surely lost any interest after a first, few peeks over to the laptop. He had been staring at his hands, folded on the table, for a good while now.  
  
His sister sighed deeply through her nose but was too busy glaring at the table to notice the others looking at her.  
  
Even Dolcetto noticed how thick the atmosphere in the room was.  
  
Francesco unsettled him the most, though. He sat apart of them in an armchair and had put on his stupid sunglasses again, which had slid down to the tip of his nose so that Dolcetto was able to make out his half lidded eyes. They focused on something beneath them and not once that Dolcetto had thrown a look in Francesco’s direction, they had moved aside from blinking. His jaw slowly moved from side to side as if he was gnashing something and his eyebrows were furrowed. All in all, he looked pissed off and although it wasn’t the first time Dolcetto had seen him like this, every time he was it was stirring something up in him. Fuck him if he’d admit it … but Francesco was good at reading his environment and the situation. Him being in a mood like that inevitably gave him a ‘seriously fucked over’ feeling.  
  
“We were all morons” Fabio interrupted the silence aside from Lovino’s monologues full of curses.  
  
“Thanks for the compliment” Gabriella said, her voice dripping with spite. It sounded strange to Dolcetto’s ears.  
  
“It’s true and your fault is actually not a big one, if one at all, Gabriella” he said. “I arguably fucked up the most. Even though I have no idea how, but what I can say is that we all let ourselves get distracted and abandoned the original plan in their favour. We played right into their hands.”  
  
“Failure analysis postponed!” Lovino interrupted him and slammed his hands on the table: “Thing is, they got away when they shouldn’t have gotten away!”  
  
“Which is what I was talking about, Lovino” Fabio replied and Lovino glared at him:  
  
“But it's not what I want to hear right now Fabio. I want to hear a way to finally catch them!”  
  
“Yes Boss” Fabio said, clearly exasperated.  
  
“Still nothing from here” Feliciano said. “Which is fairly also a little due to that I have no idea what I am looking for here” he added a little more quietly.   
Another phase of silence filled the office except for the clatter of Feliciano's keyboard keys but it didn’t last long.  
  
“Whatever it is, I am not going to sit around anymore!” Lovino spoke up once more and slammed one hand on the table again while raising the other: “I’ve had it with just dishing out orders and then sitting around waiting all uselessly! If I want to have something done I have to do it myself and if I have to turn Rome upside down, I will get a hold on this son of a bitch!”  
  
“Maybe we should let this one slide” Feliciano said and peeked over his laptop only to go back to work quickly when he met his brother's stare.  
  
“I should just let him have his way after he led me a merry dance? I should just give  
him a fucking story to boast about and make me look like a complete idiot?” Lovino said and Feliciano sighed before he shrugged:  
  
“No, of course. But it's just this ... thing we have, so it's not that important like minding our own business. I thought.”  
  
“This is own business!” Lovino gave back. “It couldn't become more our own business! Listen, I am not here”, he grabbed the back of Feliciano’s laptop and almost closed it which resulted in Feliciano to pull his hands back and blink surprised at his brother, “to get myself all walked over by Michele and his joker friends! Yeah, have you considered how big this is? He’s not only gonna boast himself, those stupid newbies might think they have set foot in this league! The Vargas family is one of the oldest mafia clans in entire Europe, we _run_ Italy's underground and I am not letting any fucking leprechauns taint this image!”  
  
Feliciano replied nothing, he even started to look around in the room instead of facing Lovino.  
  
“All of this aside, you do get a tad too worked up about this thing, Lovino” Fabio said. “I know that personally this is all pretty shit but on a bigger scale it is not really going to hurt us. Even with the Irish; this is nothing that would really help them set foot in Europe. Not even reputation wise. So – It’s not that big of a deal if they _do_ get away.”  
  
Lovino gnashed his teeth and continued to stare at Fabio who didn't break eye contact.  
  
“All well then, but am I really the only one who takes it personal here?” he asked and looked around to the others. Fabio frowned.  
  
“Definitely not” Dolcetto replied first. “These assholes fucked me up and I'll be damned if I can't give them payback.”  
  
“That makes two already” Lovino said. “Rella, your stance.”  
  
Fabio sighed heavily as Gabriella didn't respond immediately. She took a deep breath through her nose and sighed just as deep.  
  
“Out of all the things, it had to be this painting” she whispered. “I can’t help it, I … Goddammit, I can't live with the thought of Vento keeping it and just going around unpunished for this.” She gnashed her teeth. “I think it'd be _very_ good for his ego to be put in his place.”   
  
“Three already, let's decide this democratically” Lovino said, the spiteful grin on his face growing.    
  
“Lovino, I wasn't out to challenge you – “ Fabio said but Lovino paid him no mind:  
  
“Franci?”  
  
Francesco turned his head slowly towards them.  
  
Only when it stopped its motion he began to smile grin.  
  
“I don't know which side to take here” he simply replied. He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes; once he removed his fingers, the dark circles had become much more intense: “It’s selfish and stupid to say and boil it down to 'I like our game and want to keep playing it for the sake of action' when indeed it would probably better to let this slide. And I'm missing the divine service because of him. Even if it hadn't been personal before, I do feel a little ticked off by that.”  
  
“I’m taking that as four” Lovino said but his smile got cracks when his eyes met Fabio again who had crossed his arms in front of his chest and a glower in his eyes.  
  
“I told you to calm down about it, not take it up a notch, Lovino” Fabio said. “I _said_ that I know it’s personally shit, I don’t feel happy about this train wreck of events either. All I wanted to say is that you shouldn’t let your blood pressure break records because of it and that even if we will fail despite all the efforts we are making, it’s not going to be as much of a crash and burn as you make it out to be.” Fabio looked Lovino straight into the eyes for a few more seconds before he sighed deeply. “I only wanted to make sure we have that in the back of our minds.”  
  
“Acknowledged” Lovino said eventually. “But … enough talk for now! I’m preparing myself for going out and you and Gabriella will accompany me. Feli?” His brother cringed upon being called but quickly looked up from his readjusted Laptop. “Which kind of locations are we monitoring already?”  
  
Feliciano looked blankly at the laptop screen for a few seconds before he lifted his head and started to move it around.  
  
Lovino leant in to him and snapped his fingers in front of his face: “Feli.”  
  
“Uhm, the train stations” he said. “I think we ... yes we are also trying to keep an eye on the busses that go out of Rome now. Airport? I think. If not, then we should – “  
  
“Feli, you are really taking your sweet time with this” Lovino said and Feliciano flashed an awkward smile that earned him an eye roll from his brother.  
  
“But I really don’t remember anything else” Feliciano said. “I mean what we are, I mean both. What we are keeping an eye on and how they could get out.”  
  
“Fucking cars” Dolcetto said and found himself surprised for a moment when the others looked at him.  
  
“Yeah, by car” Gabriella added. “And if they would have come this way, they would have parked them in a parking block for long stays.”  
  
“Yeah” Feliciano said. “Yes, that’s good, I’ll make sure that those will be checked too.”  
  
“So will I” Lovino said. He stood up straight and reached for his collar to adjust it. “Gabriella, you’ll get us a car and Fabio, you’ll look with Feli where these parking blocks are. I’ll get ready for going out.”  
  
“Yes” both said, Gabriella joining in when Fabio added “Boss”. Lovino was fixing his sleeves as he went and grabbed his suit jacket before he left the room.  
  
The leather of the armchair squealed lightly when Francesco heaved himself out of it. Once he was up, he walked over to Gabriella who was on her phone and put her hands on her shoulders so she looked up at him.  
  
“I fucked my concealer up for the sake of drama” he said and smiled at Gabriella. “So, really petty request: Do you have any with you?”  
  
“You are too vain for your own good” Gabriella said. “I am sure I have put some back up make up somewhere in my office, but I hardly think I have time for that now.”  
  
“Thank you though Rella, maybe I’ll find another solution.”  
  
“Everything’s gone to hell and you think about the circles under your damn eyes” Dolcetto mumbled and Francesco shrugged his shoulders before he put his arm on the backrest of Dolcetto’s chair:  
  
“It just makes me feel better. Especially when I know that people stare at me.” He had leant in to Dolcetto during the last sentence but backed away with a shrug of his shoulders before he carried on: “But maybe that’s just me and my vanity indeed.”  
  
“Jesus Christ, take your fucking sunglasses off, I can’t talk to you like that” Dolcetto said and Gabriella got up, eyes still on her phone before she looked over to Fabio:  
  
“I am going and get the car. I’ll wait in front of the door, tell Lovino that, too, when he comes back.”  
  
“I’ll do” Fabio said and sighed before he looked back to the laptop screen.  
  
“I can still weed some of them out while you’re at it” Feliciano said. “I’ll send them to you. Also the new ones I find.”  
  
Fabio only nodded and Feliciano went to look back to the screen.  
  
It didn’t last long: “I actually think brother is kind of right” he said, looking back to the screen the second Fabio looked at him. “I just think you’re still thinking about it.”  
  
“Sadly you’re right” Fabio said. “And you really agree with him?”  
  
“I do about the Irish. It has just always been this thing in between him and Michele. It's weird that suddenly there's a new player. It made me rethink my stance from before.”  
  
When Feliciano looked back to Fabio he was met with a frown.    
  
“Don't give me that look!” Feliciano replied. “I mean it, I am really thinking about this! I don’t just agree with my brother for agreeing’s sake!”  
  
“Do you want to set an example?” Francesco asked from across the table and Feliciano’s eyes widened.  
  
“You mean with the that I don’t just change my mind because Lovino said so – No!“ he said. “Or maybe … kind of.” Feliciano crossed his arms and pouted: “I just wanted to say that I don't mean what I said before. It's just ... I think dealing with new people is kind of a big deal.” He swiftly turned his head to Fabio: “Say, do we know anything more about the Irish? What have they done before Sicily?”  
  
“I ... honestly don't know” Fabio replied. He paused to a few seconds. “The quick background check we ran on the Irish brought barely more than their names. I don’t remember anything from since I started working here either. I can't even tell you something that my or your father have said. Other names would maybe ring a bell but O'Connel, hardly ... no, nothing at all. I can’t answer you that right away.”  
  
“Well, that's fine” Feliciano said, sounding surprisingly carefree from one second to the other. “I was just curious.”  
  
“Nothing, really?” Dolcetto asked and Fabio looked over to him.  
  
“Nothing. I can’t even tell you the name of O’Connel’s father.”  
  
“While Salvatore even has his own fucking Wikipedia page” Dolcetto muttered to himself, biting his tongue directly afterwards. It was quiet enough you could hear a pin drop and he just hoped it wasn’t enough to hear the mumbling of someone with a swollen jaw. Francesco’s look, one eyebrow shot up and an amused smile on his lips, crushed these hopes but he didn’t comment on it after all. Francesco looked over to Fabio, leaning forwards while one arm still laid on the backrest of Dolcetto’s chair:  
  
“Well, maybe that’s the reason Michele choose him for business, to get something past the radar. Maybe he’s the ace up his sleeve and he knows much more than we do. Maybe that’s why Michele fell for him, for the mysterious, brooding stranger.” He laughed, deep and hearty before he stepped back while stretching his arms: “This could make things so much more interesting from here on!”  
  
“Yes” Fabio said as he got up. His voice was filled with dread: “It could do exactly that.”


	15. Hide & Hit

The atmosphere was so dense you could have cut it.  
  
Not a single word had been spoken in the car after they had gotten in. The only noise had been the car radio reporting the last match results of the new football season.  
  
“There has been a lot of bullshit this morning” Paddy finally broke the silence. “Aside from the Italians.”  
  
“Really? I feel like all of the bullshit this morning was Italian-related” Harry said.  
  
“Yeah, caused by them, but they’re not the problem itself. What else happened this morning, tell me.”  
  
Charlie felt that Paddy addressed him, too, but luckily for him, Harry didn’t consider it at all. He didn’t even glance at Charlie.  
  
“I don’t know what you want, old man” Harry said. “I really think the Italians are the problem.”  
  
“There is something that bothers you and it’s not them. Did something happen between you and Michele?”  
  
It grew silent. “It’s stupid” Harry said in the end.  
  
“Everything is” Paddy said. “And either we talk it out or I at least can tell you, too, that it is stupid and then you can stop worrying about it.”  
  
“Michele was a pissbaby this morning” Harry said and ruffled his hair. “You know, I’m still pissed at _myself_ because I got us in the situation in first place. But then Michele was such a fucking prick about what happened that I got angry with him.”  
   
“He blamed you for the entire thing?” Paddy asked and Charlie’s heart dropped into his guts.  
  
His voice had grown louder, hardly keeping the calm undertone. Something inside of Paddy had snapped.  
  
“No, he didn’t” Harry said. “Not at all. But when I tried to just get things straight to get at least an idea what to do, he got pissed and treated me as if I just had completely destroyed his brilliant train of thought when it was literally nothing but rambling. He was … like a spoiled brat. A pissbaby.”  
  
It grew silent again and even if Charlie didn’t want to look at Paddy, he heard the rustling of his rain jacket. He wondered if Harry knew that he had just opened Pandora’s Box.  
  
“And?” Harry asked. “I told you it was stupid.”  
  
“It’s not stupid” Paddy said and swallowed before he carried on. “Stop being angry at yourself, it’s pointless. And if you haven’t talked about it with Michele, do so. You can’t just ignore him until it is lived down.”  
  
“We’ll see” Harry replied.  
  
The air had been getting even thicker and the only good thing about it for Charlie was that Paddy was too occupied with other thoughts to ask him if something was wrong.  
  
He still hadn’t talked to Marco.  
  
He had seen the twins shortly this morning but the only things exchanged had been awkward eye contacts.  
  
His stomach churned at the mere thought of the conversation that laid ahead of him. Maybe Marco wouldn’t even want to talk to him. Not now, during all the stress, after they had gotten out of this affair instead.  
  
With all the time passed then, it would be easier to live down or it had completely spun out of control in both his and Marco’s mind and the answer to in both cases would be ‘Let’s just forget it.’  
  
And the result would be that Charlie had ruined a perfectly fine friendship.  
  
Even if Marco wanted to talk to him now, it was very likely he ruined it.  
  
Marco could very well not accept his apology – it was his good right. He could despise him for the rest of his life – this was his good right, too.  
  
Charlie had half a mind to tap the driver’s shoulder and ask how much it would cost to get run over.  
  
He shook his head and tried to think of the conversation a little more realistically.  
  
So Marco could either accept his apology or not. Charlie hadn’t thought about what could happen if he did.  
  
There was the possibility of Marco reciprocating his crush. There was a chance for them.  
  
Or maybe he would want distance and their relationship would die down instead. It would be strictly business – and awkward as hell.  
  
Marco could also simply forgive him and they could go back to just being friends. Of course it wouldn’t be like it was before, even if they tried to just ignore what had happened. Marco would most likely think that Charlie only wanted to get into his pants and that nothing would be genuinely about friendship anymore. They would eventually fall out. Slowly, painfully, awkwardly.  
  
Charlie burped and tried to hold the suffocating feeling in his chest down before he would throw up into his mouth.  
  
It wasn’t only his pessimistic, dramatic thoughts, _reality_ was out to kill him.  
  
“Charlie, you puke on my lap I'm gonna throw you out on the damn street” Harry voice distracted him. “But for real, you look bad. Do you need help? Maybe you should open the window.”  
  
“I need to talk with Marco” Charlie said. “And a glass of water. Something to eat maybe.”  
  
“Food’s a good idea” Paddy said. “But what has happened between you and Marco that it’s so important to talk to him right now?”  
  
Charlie pressed a hand on his chest, even though he did think about giving in and puking on Harry’s lap as distraction for a second.  
  
“Nothing” he said instead. “And I didn’t say right now. I just thought that I had to talk with him sometime, about the two of us. You know, after I got drunk last night I was so miserable that I realised I don’t want to carry on like this anymore.” He rubbed his stomach: “You know, the aftermath of it right now really makes me overthink it all.”  
  
“Something reasonable coming from being drunk, who would’ve thought” Paddy muttered.  
  
Charlie looked over to Harry and was met with a sceptical look. Charlie put a finger to his lips while he heard Paddy’s rain jacket rustling:  
  
“Ah, but hangovers always make us swear that it – Charlie what was this?”  
  
Charlie winced and turned to look at him – and winced again when he looked straight into his face.  
  
“Jesus old man, I just lost ten years, I swear” he said and tried to calm down. Another disgusting burp came out of his mouth.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you” Paddy said. “But you have to tell me what that just was. What are you two hiding from me?”  
  
“I’m not hiding anything” Harry said. “I’m just a confidant in this thing, and I didn’t choose to be one, either.”  
  
“You are being so supportive, Harry” Charlie said with a glare to match his tone of voice.  
  
“Hey, absolutely everything you fucked up up to now is completely your own fault” Harry said and leant in to Charlie.  
  
“Stop!” Both of them cringed and looked at Paddy. The cab driver responded as well by cursing under his breath. “We don’t need this right now. Charlie, will you now tell me what happened or not?”  
  
Charlie kept quiet and the more he tried to build up courage to say something, the bigger the mess in his head became.  
  
The cab driver was still muttering angrily under his breath into the silence.  
  
“Listen, I am not going to rip your head off if you really don’t want to tell me, but I’m worried and asking is all I can do” Paddy said.  
  
“I just fucked up last night, okay?” Charlie looked out of the window. “I got drunk and did things I’m really not proud of.”  
  
“What things?” Paddy asked firmly. Charlie even believed to have heard a certain edge in his voice.  
  
“I was an arsehole to him! I went and told him of my crush and made it seem like he owed me for it!”  
  
The cab driver, who had endured the backseat drama quietly so far, told him hectically to be quiet, quiet, calm down.  
  
“Sorry. I’m sorry” he said in Italian. Then he faced Paddy: “That’s it. Nothing more. I’m sorry, but I didn’t expect the bloody inquisition.”  
  
Paddy’s face changed, his eyebrows arched up and his eyes slightly narrowed. But before Charlie could feel bad for the edge in his own voice, Harry laughed.  
  
“Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition” he said and cackled again.  
  
Charlie joined in on his laughter. The next time he looked at Paddy, a small smile had appeared on his face and eased the sad look.  
  
Charlie was so relieved that a stone fell from his heart and he had to cough disgustingly again. This was way too much trouble for his poor stomach.  
  
“Okay, so yesterday you talked with Marco and said something wrong.” Paddy said.  
  
“I said a shitton of wrong things.” A pause followed, so Charlie carried on: “But I am going to talk to him as soon as possible about it. I want to at least apologise, just so he knows I know I was an arsehole and didn’t want to hurt him.”  
  
Paddy kept smiling at him which in return made Charlie frown after a few seconds.  
  
“What?” he asked when Paddy still only kept looking at him. “I’m getting the inquisition feeling again. Are we playing Good Cop Bad Cop?”  
  
Paddy and Harry laughed. Charlie couldn’t supress a smile either.  
  
“I’m just proud of you. That’s allowed, isn’t it?” Paddy said.  
  
“Proud? For talking to you about it?” Charlie asked.  
  
“For wanting to talk with Marco about this” Paddy said and Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “Not many people are being this calm and collected over facing music like this.”  
  
“Oooh, trust me old man, I am _not_ ”, Charlie waved his hands, “calm and collected. You know, half of these puke fits are the hangover and the other half is the shattering fear of talking to Marco.”  
  
Paddy chuckled. “That’s not what I meant” he said. He turned around and rolled his head from left to right once. It made a damp sound when it scratched against the car roof. “Facing music at all requires a spine not everyone has” he said, still not facing Charlie. “And you are just taking it as self-evidently. That’s a really admirable thing.”  
  
“Well, what else should I do? I was not raised to be spineless by the people around me.”  
  
Charlie smiled and it grew even wider when Paddy said: “They really can be proud of the boy they raised.”  
  
“They just told me they are.” Charlie got no response but when Paddy turned his head, Charlie leant sideways enough to see him behind the headrest.  
  
Paddy pressed his lips together in a smile while his eyes were half lidded.  
  
Charlie’s stomach ache was finally gone.  
  
He looked out of the window. Even though the trees and bushes were losing their dead leaves, Charlie could imagine how nice this part of the road must look like during the spring and summer months. The trees would throw shade over the wall that confined them, onto the road. In the midst of a million people city, it’d be a peaceful spot and no matter to where you were heading, you could get a rest on this drive.  
  
When he looked over to Harry, he caught the other staring out of his own window, eyes wide open and full of curiosity.  
  
“Nice little city rome, huh?” Charlie asked and Harry looked over to him.  
  
“Ten year old me would have been stoked” he said. “Look at all of these old structures. It’s … amazing. There are so many stories to be told.”  
  
“Yeah, It’s a little sad that educational holidays, or any kind of holidays, are pretty much out of question after this weekend” Charlie said. “But at least we’ve got to see some stuff.”  
  
Harry shrugged. “Being at stories and shit, I wonder how many people are actually going to be at the divine service” he said. “If it is really as much of a chaos Michele made it sound like, then it’s got to be a shitton of people. The Saint Peter’s basilica is supposed to be huge. Bloody huge.”  
  
“Well, it’s not like I’m too sure about it, but isn’t the pope the one who conducts the divine service?” Paddy said. “There are going to be a lot of people to see that. That is something special. If we would have time it could actually be quite interesting to attend one of the services.”  
  
“Wait, time out” Charlie said. “Frecky’s the only roman catholic here, or did I miss something? The pope isn’t even relevant to your interests, old man.”  
  
“How do you know?” Paddy replied. “I can still be interested into how the competition rolls.”  
  
Harry and Charlie started to laugh until Paddy muttered: “Goddammit that sounded wrong.”  
  
“What did?” Charlie asked.  
  
Paddy shook his head. “Nothing.”  
  
The boys shared a look and Harry frowned intensively. “I didn’t think there was _anything_ wrong with what you said.”  
  
“It’s just my old baggage, boys, doesn’t matter now. They’re not competition, this is not a competition.” Paddy spoke up: “But, as you know, I always lived in very catholic environments, so I would actually like to see who runs the show.”  
  
They laughed quietly again, this time together with Paddy but it died down quickly.  
  
“To be honest, I’ll gladly miss out on this” Charlie said. “It’s an old, conservative church guy. Who else should run this thing? Have you looked at the catholic church?”  
  
“I know Charlie. I know” Paddy whispered. “Look at it as a cultural thing: Even as atheist I think it could be interesting to take part in an event this big.”  
  
“I went to the divine services at Christmas and had my fair shares of big events like these.”  
  
“Old man, you’re arguing with a lost cause” Harry said. “And you know it. I’d like to see that, though. At least – “  
  
“A lost cause, thank you Frecky” Charlie interrupted him.  
  
“Hey, you chose to not be religious, we did and it’s been like this for years. That’s the only thing I meant with that, don’t be such a diva about it” Harry replied.  
  
“But I’m a lost cause because I chose not to be Christian?”  
  
“That is not what I fucking said! I literally just told you – “  
  
“There are less damning words than a lost cause, words that don’t imply – “  
  
“Stop!” Paddy said again. “Please don’t argue about this, okay? Religion’s not worth being argued about. We are free to disagree about this topic as long as we are not being twats to each other. Alright?”  
  
Charlie felt his heart sink back into his guts.  
_  
It’s just my old baggage. They’re not competition, there is no competition. Religion’s not worth being argued about.  
_  
He wanted to slap himself for not noticing Paddy’s reluctance. It was not like he had wanted to provoke an argument with anyone, but he had very well known that what he had said _was_ provoking. When he looked over to Harry, he was greeted with the same guilty expression on the other’s face. What was barely frustrating to them, hit home way too close for Paddy.  
  
Charlie and Harry had both been too young to understand or even remember the assassination attempts throughout Ireland, even the ones in their own city. They had known there was a war and it had been explained to them that it was because some people wanted a united Ireland and some didn’t. Some people being Catholic and some being Presbyterian.  
  
It hadn’t mattered when they had been raised in an almost exclusively catholic environment, when the sentence “It’s over now and you luckily never have to worry about this again” followed the explanation about the war. It had never mattered until Paddy had stepped into their life, with a weird accent that made their neighbours talk and a different church he went to Sundays.  
  
With all the old baggage that a survivor of The Troubles carried with him.  
  
“Sorry” Harry said.  
  
“I’m sorry too” Charlie said.  
  
The rest of the ride was spent in silence until the streets filled up with cars and people. A column of giant pillars appeared at the end of the street. Above them were statues of humans and angels.  
  
“I really thought there would be way more people” Paddy said as they crawled along traffic, only a few meters away from their destination.  
  
“Me too” Harry said. “I somehow expected a riot.”  
  
“Let’s just hope it’s still busy enough to blend in with them” Paddy said.  
  
“I don’t think anymore that this is as much of a great idea as Michele thought it was” Charlie said. “When actually was the last time we had a well thought plan and not one for which we had to hope it would work?”  
  
“Plans are for bores” Harry said. “And of course it’s not that great, Michele was too high up on his horse in the morning to think of anything good. The air was too thin up there.”  
  
“Please don’t just gobble him up when you see him” Charlie joked as the driver turned with one fluid motion and bumped into the sidewalk with his tires when he parked.  
  
“I’m gonna chew him out” Harry replied while he looked through his pockets for his wallet. “How much?” he asked the driver.  
  
“38 Euros” he answered, not even glancing at the taximeter. Harry squinted at the clearly lower number it displayed.  
  
“35” he said but the driver shook his head:  
  
“38.” When Harry pointed at the taximeter, he quickly said: “It’s broken. The number is not right. It costs 38.”  
  
Harry kept squinting at him and Charlie sighed. “Frecky, you either got the extra money or the time and the nerve to discuss this.”  
  
Harry furrowed his brows harder.  
  
“It’s three euros, just give him what he wants, Harry” Paddy said and Harry pulled out two twenty bills.  
  
“38, no tips” he said firmly.  
  
Charlie and Paddy got out of the car and after Paddy opened the hood of his jacket and put it over his head, he stretched himself.  
  
“Still alright, old man?” Charlie asked amused after one of the deep, groaning sounds the other had made. “Take it easy, you aren’t twenty anymore.”  
  
“You’re being cheeky, boy” Paddy said. “I’m still in peak condition, despite being folded together in cars like this over my entire life.”  
  
Harry got out of the car. He first shoved his wallet first into his back pocket before he put it in his jacket.  
  
“There comes Scrooge McDuck” Charlie said.  
  
“Shut up, that’s a matter of principle” he said. “I am not going to let them think they can just take the piss out of me because I’m a foreigner. The cab drivers at our own place are bad enough.”  
  
“You really sound like an old, bitter duck” Charlie said.  
  
Harry showed him the V-Sign and looked around.  
  
People passed them on the sidewalk, most of them heading towards the square. They were standing in front of the pillars and behind those was already a queue of people; a policeman stood nearby. The sound of people talking was drowned out by the ringing bells of the church.  
  
“This place is big enough to miss each other easily” Paddy said. “We better ask where Michele is.”  
  
Harry looked at him with a frown and leant in to him. Paddy leant down in return and Charlie took a little step back to not get in between the two.  
  
“Ask Michele where he is” Paddy said and Harry let out an “Aaah”, before he got his phone out.  
  
“This was really a _great_ idea” he said and Paddy leant down again.  
  
“It is all we got, there is no use in getting upset now” Paddy said. “Let’s take a step back to the pillar. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk all dressed up and nowhere to go is a little too suspicious.”  
  
“Going two meters and doing the same isn’t?” Charlie asked but Paddy didn’t answer him, just headed for the nearest pillar and sat down at its base.  
  
Now that Charlie stood in the shadows, he felt his face getting cold and pulled the hood of his pullover up, which had also the bonus of hiding his completely fucked up hair. In the morning he hadn’t thought of it and now he was comb-, brush- and helpless. When he had tried to get it back in shape, it wouldn’t stick up; when he had tried to flatten it, it wouldn’t stay down.  
  
“Send my stupid message, you fucking – “ Harry cursed beside him and Charlie looked over to him.  
  
As Paddy said “Simply call him, Harry, you don’t need to make it complicated”, Charlie’s attention was caught by the policeman. He glanced over to the irish but was were rather occupied with the queue that moved along.  
  
“My phone’s saying it has great internet reception here but just won’t send, it’s pissing me off” Harry said but went to call Michele. “If it’s faking the phone reception as well, I’m going postal, I tell you.”  
  
“Not the best idea with a policeman right next to you, Harry” Charlie said. “While I am at it – Why is there a police man? Where are the dudes in the fancy pants?”  
Harry frowned at him but was either too focused on his call or hadn’t heard him due to the bells. So Charlie turned to Paddy:  
  
“Old man”, he said, leaning down a little and Paddy cocked his head towards him. It was a little strange how little he had to lean down to the other despite Paddy sitting. Though leaning _down_ to Paddy at all was way stranger for Charlie. “Have you seen the police man?”  
  
“I have” Paddy said. “What’s wrong?” he asked, suspicion in his voice.  
  
“Nothing” Charlie replied. “I’m just wondering what the police is doing here. Shouldn’t there be the Swiss guard?”  
  
“Maybe it’s the Swiss guard in casual uniforms” Paddy said. “They can’t always walk around in these flashy things.”  
  
“The royal guard can” Charlie said but Harry caught their attention now by shouting into the phone:  
  
“Where are you? Well I am at the fucking square! At the side, one of the big pillars – what? Michele, the fucking bells are making me deaf, speak up!” Harry listened and Charlie looked over to the policeman again. “Okay, so you’re near the square. Vatican Museums, okay” Harry said.  
  
Still listening with one finger in his ear, he took a quick step around the pillar and got on his toes. “The basilica is right from me. So I’m on the right side. And I’ll meet you at the museums and I get there how?” Charlie looked around but saw no sign that would have helped them.  
  
“Just following the wall and I’ll get there? Okay - … yes, okay. We’ve got this. Tell him to look for Paddy, that’s the easiest. I’ll see you there.” There was another pause.  
  
“Alright, see you – I don’t want any damn love yous anymore and while at it, I want a damn talk about your attitude this morning.” Charlie looked around and found Paddy at last who was looking over to Harry. Harry swallowed. “But yeah, love ya too. See you in a minute.”  
  
He ended the call but stared at the display.  
  
“Vatican museums?” Charlie asked carefully and Harry’s head jerked up.  
  
“Hm? Yeah. Lorenzo’s waiting there for us, Michele is somewhere close to this” Harry said.  
  
“Well then we better get going” Paddy said and stood up. He readjusted his hood and after Harry had looked around and started walking, leant down to him. “What does it mean Michele’s nearby?”  
  
“He wanted to look for a café in a sidestreet” Harry said. “But he said he was close to Vatican and had planned to send Lorenzo anyways to come and get us once he had found a place to stay.”  
  
Paddy nodded. Before he started walking with him, he grabbed the hood of Harry’s jacket and pulled it up.  
  
“Better safe than sorry” he said and Harry adjusted his hood while he followed the street uphill.  
  
Cars and people came their way on the street and the sidewalk was littered with people as well. Even though the three Irishman already had a rather fast pace, someone else thought it still wasn’t fast enough.  
  
Charlie got an elbow pushed into his side and while he glared at the man, someone behind them called and made the other stand still:  
  
“Slow!” was yelled in Italian. Charlie at least thought so; the bells still made it hard to understand anything. Without a second thought, he passed them.  
  
As he carried on, however, he recognized the voice of the yelling man from before. They must have een directly behind him.  
  
“ – hurrying.” Charlie couldn’t get the first part of this sentence. It sounded like the other had something in his mouth. “I’m – missing the – “, a word Charlie didn’t knew followed, “I will not stress, too.”  
  
The bells stopped ringing and Charlie heard the click of a lighter behind him.  
  
“You more like it when the boss is mad at you?” The sentence didn’t sound right, but Charlie was sure he had gotten the gist of it. He looked around and he saw that Harry was a few steps ahead of him. He made a big step –  
  
“He stole my Sunday”, the word again he didn’t know, “That’s rude, boss or not. It’s a funny thing, anyways. What? A painting?”  
  
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. He abruptly stopped for a second.  
  
“ – important” Goddammit, the non-mumbling guy just spoke too fast. “Painting is worth a lot.”  
  
“Not worth as much as my good Sunday peace.” Whatever the other had in his mouth, he had finally gotten it out of it. ”They are not still here. My god, all trouble for a painting. Thought this Vento got better to do.”  
  
As they passed him, Charlie stared at them for a second before he started to sprint. His ears still deaf from the bells and his stomach turning because of the cigarette smoke the mumbling Italian exhaled, he thought he’d stumble any second. Holding down a cough that burnt in his throat, he reached Harry. He tapped his shoulder and leant in to him.  
  
“Trouble” he hissed. “There were two guys of the Vargas right behind me.”  
Harry’s eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder while Charlie coughed into his elbow.  
  
“Who?” Harry asked quietly and Charlie, with water in his eyes, looked around. He quickly found them a meter behind them.  
  
“The guy with the cigarette and his friend.”  
  
“Have they seen us?”  
  
“Don't think so” Charlie said. “And they won’t if we stop staring.”  
  
Harry turned his head around and walked a little faster again. Charlie was right by his side.  
  
“How do you even know they are Vargas’ men?” Harry asked.  
  
“They talked about a painting and Vento. That's enough indication for me.”  
  
“Fuck!” It was quiet but strong. “Let's get Paddy and hit the trail.”  
  
“What do you mean by hit the trail, we can't leave when Lorenzo’s here and besides, how are we going find Michele then?!”  
  
“Well then – I don't know! I’m telling Paddy.” Harry jumped forwards, quickly passed the small groups of people. Charlie followed him less graceful, grazed  a few of the other pedestrians and got almost run over by a scooter.  
  
He barely held the comment “I’m just gonna throw my guts on the sidewalk” back together with last night’s dinner when he reached Harry, who had grabbed Paddy’s shoulder. At first it sunk simply because of Harry’s mere force; only when Paddy looked around and recognized him did he lower his head.  
  
“There are men of the Vargas around.”  
  
“Where” Paddy demanded. Harry quickly turned his head around.  
  
“Over there” he said with a nod towards them. “They haven’t seen us yet, Charlie just heard them talk about the painting.”  
  
“And Vento, if you need any more justification” Charlie whispered, still a little out of breath.  
  
“And really didn’t notice us” Paddy said.  
  
“Don’t think they know us” Charlie said. He got on his toes. “The Vargas really didn’t think this through.”  
  
“A hip hip hooray for people with no fucking organisation” Harry said.  
  
“We’re just never shit outta luck, isn’t that great” Paddy said. “Let’s just hope the same for Michele.” He straightened up again and started walking.  
  
Charlie threw one last look over to the men, who were next to him now, before he started walking again.  
  
Just when he looked in front of him again, he caught something in the corner of his eyes.  
  
It didn’t surprise Charlie. Lorenzo’s bright red hoodie stood out, even when he only peeked around a car. Charlie had noticed him anyways since his hood was down.  
Charlie started to sprint. Past the men of the Vargas, he turned around the corner of the car. Lorenzo’s eyes widened but he barely slowed down, instead grabbed Lorenzo’s hood and pulled it over his head. With a tug at its hem, he turned Lorenzo around and dragged him. At first by the hem, then by Lorenzo’s shoulders and stumbled backwards until he hit the fence behind him.  
  
“Hello sweetheart!” he said with a bright grin.  
  
Lorenzo glared daggers at him, yet stood still.  
  
“Oh, I have a good reason to surprise you like this” Charlie said. His head spun and he felt like throwing up on his shoes.  
  
He saw the men from the corner of his eyes. They only gave them a side glance in passing as well.  
  
“I swear to god, if you fucking think I’m my brother” Lorenzo finally snarled and lifted his hands.  
  
Harry and Paddy slowed down when they spotted the two, Harry even turned around the car and walked towards them.  
  
Charlie’s face dropped. “There were henchmen of Vargas. They didn’t recognize us but I didn’t want take chances with you.”  
  
Lorenzo’s eyes widened and he turned around, even got on his toes.  
  
Hastily, Charlie grabbed his shoulder and pressed him down again. His fingers shook.  
  
“Lay it low Lorenzo” he said. “We’ll just join Paddy again and look for the others.”  
Harry nodded, started walking again and Lorenzo stopped staring at Charlie and followed him. Charlie sighed relieved and followed them. After taking a few deep breaths it was easier to keep pace with them.  
  
Lorenzo walked behind Paddy, Harry next to him. Charlie kept walking a few steps behind them.  
  
When they reached a sidestreet, Marco leant against a corner with his head down and Lorenzo jumped past Paddy.  
  
But before he reached his brother, Paddy’s hand grabbed his hood and pulled him right back beside him. His hood was loosened up in the process and the big hand reached for it again to adjust it.  
  
Harry leant against the wall next to Marco now.  
  
“Where’s Michele?”  
  
Marco pointed down the street. “There’s a rather big café down the street.”  
  
“Alright” Harry said. “And lay low, we’re not as alone as we thought.”  
_  
Lay low in these clothes?_ Charlie thought amused. _Marco looks like he wants to get robbed._  
  
He felt his heart speed up and averted his eyes.  
  
Marco was now walking with Paddy, Lorenzo and Harry behind them. Charlie closed up with Lorenzo. When he looked around again, he caught Marco looking at him over his shoulder.  
  
He didn’t immediately turn away but his expression turned from concerned to uneasy.  
Charlie took heart and a step closer to Marco.  
  
“Hey Marco” he whispered into his ear. “I know it’s really not the best time for this but if we find any later, I wanted to talk about last night with you.”  
  
“Why?” he asked back.  
  
“Because I was an arsehole about what I wanted to say – said – and didn’t actually get done what I wanted to do” Charlie replied. “It’s all up to you though.”  
  
“Didn’t get done what you wanted to do?” Marco had sounded tentative before, now his tone was acerbic.  
  
“Yes, because I wanted to actually talk with you about … All I did was making you upset and that wasn’t the intention.”  
  
Marco took a deep breath but before he could respond, Lorenzo tugged at his sleeve. Charlie slowed down a little to give them more space. After Lorenzo had pointed at a café, Marco nodded quickly. They entered it and scanned the place.  
  
Charlie looked around, but saw no one paying them any particular attention. The café wasn’t very full to begin.  
  
“Upstairs” Lorenzo said and went over to the stairs in the back of the room.  
  
There was no one else here, so Michele captured Charlie’s attention immediately. He sat on a corner table and stopped resting his feet on the cases underneath the table when he saw them but the twins reached him before he could get up.  
  
Charlie could understand enough of what the twins told him to know it was about the thing with Vargas’ minions. Hopefully Michele wouldn’t ask him for details.  
  
As Charlie sat down with the others, he felt like never getting up again. Before he could let his head sink to the table, however, Michele moved further down the bench to make space for the twins and addressed the others:  
  
“The twins just told me you saw two of Vargas’ men on your way here.”  
  
“Yeah” Charlie said and sat up a little straighter. He rubbed his eyes.  
  
“And they didn’t see you?”  
  
“I don’t think they know what we looked like” Harry said. “Even if Paddy hid his face pretty well, he’s no one you won’t notice.”  
  
“Not to mention, Harry walked around with no hood himself and, no offense, it’s not quite the kind of face you fail to notice” Charlie added.  
  
“Yeah, it’s because I’m so pretty” Harry said with a grin and Charlie cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“It’s because everyone is afraid those eyebrows of yours are contagious” he gave back. The twins snickered about it but Michele spoke up, his voice as full of worry as his face:  
  
“Alright, but you are sure that they belonged to the Vargas.”  
  
A second went by until Charlie felt sure he was the one to answer: “Pretty sure. They talked about being called back to work because of a painting. Your name was mentioned, too, and the one saying that they … uhm …”  
  
Charlie tried to remember the conversation but Michele waved: “That’s enough for me. And even if not, it changes nothing. I know for sure that I saw some at the termini.”  
  
“Alright, so what now?” Harry asked. He looked directly at Michele, waited until he noticed and looked back at him.  
  
“Now we’re here to make a plan” Michele said. “Without ruffle or excitement.”  
  
“Oh, so a well thought plan this time” Charlie said but quickly looked away when he met Michele’s miffed look.  
  
“Any ideas yet?” Paddy asked.  
  
“No – not me at least. I’m … I’m a little overburdened right now.” Michele pressed his fingertips against his eyes and rubbed them. His hands next to each other, Charlie noticed how the left one was red and dotted with impressions.  
  
“I know” Harry said. Michele stopped rubbing his eyes. “And now calm down and start thinking without ruffle or excitement.”  
  
“Yes. Thank you.” As seconds went by, he leant in to Harry and whispered: “I’m sorry for this morning, I was really stressed and took it all out on you.” He turned his head towards the rest: “Why don’t you stop listening and instead start talking about a new plan?”  
  
The twins sat up within a second and scooted a few centimetres away from Michele while Charlie just looked away, feeling awkward.  
  
“Alright, do you two have any ideas?” Paddy asked the twins.  
  
“So far not” Marco said.  
  
“ _So far_ ” Lorenzo said and while Charlie had to smile about this, he was still listening to Harry’s and Michele’s conversation with one ear:  
  
“I noticed that” Harry said. “But … it’s alright now. You apologised and apology accepted. I probably should have told you earlier that was being pissed at you.”  
  
“It’s alright, really Harry. Now we’ve talked about it, it’s all alright again. Or is it?”  
  
Charlie didn’t dare to look at them, especially because Michele would have surely caught him immediately.  
  
“It is. Alright, back to business then” Harry said. “Any plans yet?”  
  
“We’re working on it” the twins replied in unison but Harry had looked at Paddy anyways.  
  
“As they said” Paddy said. “They’re trying to get an overview about the situation – I guess.”  
  
Charlie was the only one to notice the offended look on the twins’ faces and bit his lower lip to stop himself from grinning.  
  
“But maybe Charlie thought of something?”  
  
Still biting his lip, he looked up at Paddy and blinked a few times. “Hm?”  
  
Harry laughed and Charlie cleared his throat.  
  
“I’m sorry, but I’m really no help here” he said. “I am already occupied with staying awake or not trying to throw up. Which is not easy, trust me.”  
  
“Then go downstairs and get yourself some water” Harry said. “Now we’ve got the time for it.”  
  
“We should all get something to eat and to drink” Paddy said. “Unless you already had some.”  
  
“No” the Sicilians said while Charlie stood up:  
  
“Then I’ll get us some. So, keep talking, I’ll be right back, being useful.”  
  
“If there’s tea, then I want tea” Harry said.  
  
“I’ll see what I can do” Charlie replied when Marco said:  
  
“I’m coming with you.”  
  
Charlie stopped and stared. Marco was at his side with two quick steps.  
  
Only then he caught himself. “Sure” he said and turned around to walk over to the stairs. Marco had passed him with one step, before he could reach the stairs however, Harry called for him.  
  
“Oi Marco!” he said and threw him his jacket as soon as Marco turned around. He caught it with a confused look.  
  
“In case you want to hide from someone. It even has a hood.”  
  
Charlie realized he hadn’t taken off his hood yet. As he looked at Marco, he further realized he was not going to take it off any time soon, either.  
  
“Ah, thanks” Marco said, turned around and skipped down the stairs. Charlie had to sprint to keep pace with him.  
  
Downstairs, Marco quickly looked around before he took a look at the jacket. He frowned but put it on regardless and adjusted it with a few quick tugs.  
  
Charlie took a look around and just when he wanted to walk towards the counter, he noticed something.  
  
“Oh no it's one of those cafes” he said and sighed.  
  
“What do you mean?” Marco asked and Charlie pointed towards the register in the back of the room:  
  
“It’s one where you have to pay somewhere other than the counter” he said.  
  
“What’s the problem with that?”  
  
“Because sometimes you just pay there, other times you have to order there and then go back to the counter to get what you want and sometimes – You know what I mean, you’re from here after all.”  
  
“I’m not from _here_ ”, Marco said and Charlie refrained from a sigh, “but I know what you mean. It’s easy, you’re just asking what to do?”  
  
“That is true but I wish I wouldn’t have to” Charlie said. “But alright, here we go to make an idiot out of myself again.”  
  
“Asking does not make you an idiot, being one does.”  
  
“Well, that is true, but not everyone needs to know I am one and all of your Italian food places are exposing me in public” Charlie replied.  
  
Marco snorted and rolled his eyes when Charlie looked at him. When Marco turned to him, a smile grew on both of their faces and Marco quickly faced the other way.  
  
Charlie felt like everything had went back to normal. Marco was talking with him and laughed about his comebacks. Charlie thought nothing would make him more perfectly happy than Marco’s smile.  
  
His stomach turned and he had to cough, taking deep breaths in between.  
  
“Charlie, are you alright?” Marco asked and put a hand on his back. Charlie shook his head. “Are you about to throw up?”  
  
Charlie shook his head again. “I’m fine” he said and Marco took his hand away.  
  
“I’m getting you a glass of water, okay?” Marco said. The hand on his back disappeared with a quick motion and Charlie noticed Marco rocking slightly.  
  
“I wanted to buy water bottles anyways” Charlie said but when Marco wanted to jump to the counter, he added: “Marco, wait. Please come back.” he was at his side within a second again. “I know we need get breakfast and all, but I wanted to talk with you about last night first. If you want to.”  
  
“What about it?” Marco asked. He was still twitching.  
  
“Look, Marco, I’m sorry for some of the things I said to you last night. Especially how I said them. You know, I was a little …” Charlie paused. The worried look on Marco’s face wasn’t helping the ache he felt all over his body. “No, let me start again. I’m sorry that I said it was your fault. The only way you could have known that I have a crush on you was if I had told you before. So … everything was my fault and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”  
  
Silence ensued. Charlie felt like his head would explode and he pressed his hands against his temples.  
  
“Okay Charlie” Marco said hastily. “It’s okay.”  
  
“So you accept my apology?” Charlie asked.  
  
Marco’s face was so fraught with stress that Charlie’s headache intensified from looking at it, but suddenly, his features relaxed a little.  
  
“Yes. Thank you for apologising.”  
  
“No Marco, thank you for forgiving me” Charlie said.  
  
Marco opened his mouth as if to say something – all over again. Charlie saw how his fingers shook when he ran them through his hair. He even bit his knuckles once.  
  
“Marco, what’s wrong?” Charlie asked and Marco clenched his eyes.  
  
“I don’t know!” he said. “Charlie, I want to tell you something, but … I don’t know what!”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to” Charlie said and despite Marco violently shaking his head, he carried on: “Marco, we can just keep being friends or if you need distance, then – “  
  
“Charlie, no no no!” Marco took a few breaths but avoided looking at him. “Charlie, do you still have a crush on me?”  
  
Charlie knew that answering honestly could ruin their friendship. If he lied, backpedalled, everything could go back to how it was before, the only thing he had to do was to never bring up his true feelings again.  
  
“Of course I do” Charlie said with a smile. “Here’s the only thing I should have told you last night: I love talking with you or watching you do what you love. Or listening to you talking about, the entire way you talk and act – Just you. I love – I just love everything about you. And I wish I could be even closer to you.”  
  
Charlie tried to look into Marco’s eyes as often as possible. By the end of his answer, Marco had stopped averting his eyes.  
  
“I wanted to ask you how you feel about this” Charlie said. “About me.”  
  
“I like you, Charlie” Marco said and Charlie braced himself for the inevitable turndown that was to follow.  
  
It didn’t come. “More than a friend. I never thought about it but … “ He shook his head again: “I don’t want to think about it anymore. I like you, too, the same way.”  
  
Charlie’s heart sped up, his breath did as well and despite the physical state he was in, he wanted to run around the place until his overflow of adrenaline and joy was gone. When his eyes met Marco’s again, his fantasy even went as far as just wanting to grab and kiss Marco. The worried look on Marco’s face put a check on these thoughts.  
  
“So this is a mutual crush?” he asked instead and Marco rolled his eyes:  
  
“Didn’t I just say so?”  
  
“I just wanted to be sorry – sure, I just wanted to be sure, I’m sorry, this way around” Charlie said and chuckled.  
  
“You’ll be sorry anyways if you don’t get your ass upstairs any soon, Higgins” Lorenzo said while he came downstairs. “What’s taking you so long?”  
  
“Nothing” Marco replied. “We’ll be back in a minute.”  
  
Lorenzo looked between them and around. He grabbed Marco’s sleeve when he wanted to go to the counter. They started to whisper but even the few words Charlie caught sounded barely like Italian.  
  
Lorenzo threw one last puzzled look at Marco, shot Charlie a glare and went upstairs again.  
  
“Charlie, what do you want?” Marco asked and Charlie hurried over to him.  
  
It really only took them a minute, especially since Marco made Charlie his pack mule so he could get over more quickly with paying. It also made Charlie drop three water bottles but Marco picked them up in passing.  
  
Finally upstairs, he slumped down on his chair. All of the bottles he placed on the table fell over. Harry and Paddy grabbed theirs and while Charlie emptied his own one in one go, Michele spoke up:  
  
“Hauling a cab all well and nice, but I’m sure he watches the hotspots already, like the termini” Michele said. “Or maybe he’s already monitoring the taxi companies themselves.”  
  
“You think he rather hacks entire companies before he gets the idea to at least tell his people who they are even looking for?” Harry asked.  
  
“This kid could do anything for all I know” Michele snarled.  
  
“You ruled the buses out for the same reason” Paddy said. “And this is more likely than the cabs. Your paranoia is making it impossible to work, Michele. Fact is, we can’t allow ourselves the luxury to be picky.”  
  
“I know” Michele said. “I just don’t want to risk anything, I want it to be as fool proof as possible.”  
  
“Kiss perfection goodbye, the way with the less risks is the most fool proof thing we have” Paddy said.  
  
“Grit your teeth and get to it” Harry said. “That has always worked for us, I don’t know why you’re breaking your head over it, Michele.”  
  
“Because, to be fair, always counting on sheer luck is no way to get far in this business. Or old” Michele replied when Charlie said:  
  
“We still have my car, in case nobody has thought about it yet. If I remember right, it’s even in a parking block that’s basically just around the corner.”  
  
“We didn’t think about it, but we won’t all fit in there anyways” Paddy said and Charlie rolled his eyes.  
  
“Didn’t you leave your keys at the hotel?” Michele asked. Charlie waved with his index finger while his other hand went into the front pocket of his pullover:  
  
“I didn’t. I usually always take my keys with me, so I always put them in the same place as my wallet. So I took them with me to the hotel bar last night and have them with me right here.” He held the small black remote with the Porsche logo right in front of his eyes. “What a lucky coincidence, am I right?”  
  
“Indeed” Michele said. “If we can find a way to make something out of it.”  
  
“I can fit in at least four people” Charlie said. “Five, if the ones on the backseat don’t mind a little cuddling.”  
  
“I’m sure no one would” Michele said. “But that would still leave one out. Who would have to take a cab …” He sighed.  
  
“It’s still better than all of us having to take one, isn’t it according to you?” Paddy said. “And I’ll gladly volunteer before I have to fold myself into Charlie’s car.”  
  
“I would really not want to leave you on your own, Patrick” Michele said. “You don’t even know the language of the place, much less Rome itself, you wouldn’t know what to look out for or give the taxi driver any precise instructions if you needed to.”  
  
“Do you really think the taxi drivers here would accept any kind of instructions, no matter what language?” Harry asked Michele with a smirk on his lips.  
  
“If I only had a bigger car, then all of our problems would be solved.” Charlie sighed.  
  
“Indeed boy, why did you buy that sardine tin on wheels instead of a real car again?” Paddy asked.  
  
“Hey, what if we rent a car?” Harry said. “We’d be free to drive how we want, we would blend in easier– “  
  
“You can’t just rent a car within ten minutes, Harry” Paddy replied. “We’d have to find where you can rent one first, then we’d have to get there and then there’s paperwork and payment. That could be an hour we don’t have.”  
  
“Oh, time’s not the problem” Michele said. “I’ve got money and I’ve got connections, if I call back home and tell them to take care of it, it’s done within half an hour, maximum. What I’m worried about is that they’ll keep an eye on that, too.”  
  
Paddy groaned loudly. Michele leant over the table, elbows rested on it and hands free to move:  
  
“These license plates are even easier – “  
  
“Cab or car, Michele, decide now!” Harry said. “Grit your teeth and get to it, I said!”  
  
“Alright, then renting a car it is!” Michele said. He got his phone out. “I’ll call Silvio; he shall get it done. Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”  
  
“Where are you going?” Paddy asked and Harry moved a little back with his chair so Michele could get up.  
  
“To a more quiet place to have the call in peace” Michele replied, his phone already pressed against his ear. “Ciao Silvio!”  
  
Michele made his way downstairs and Paddy let out a deep sigh before he turned his attention back to his barely touched breakfast.  
  
“You give the impression as if the discussion with Michele was really punishing” Charlie said.  
  
“It was difficult” Paddy said. “But that is mostly due to that the entire situation is difficult. How are you? Feeling better?”  
  
“Yes” Charlie said. He took a bite of his own bread; the fat of the cheese and bread itself made his stomach turn a little but once he got it done, his appetite returned. “Actually, old man, come what may, there is no way to get my spirits down today” he said with a cocky grin.  
  
“Why did you take both cases with you?” Harry asked the twins.  
  
Lorenzo and Marco grinned at each other before they leant in to him.  
  
“Well, first, we’ve brought these clothes” Lorenzo started and gestured towards both his and his brother. Marco kicked against one of the cases and said:  
  
“Just in case.”  
  
They didn’t say anything, only a grin on their lips and eventually Harry’s frown turned into a cackle.  
  
“Nice one” he said and the twins chuckled as well.  
  
“We wanted to make this pun all morning” Marco said.  
  
“We were just waiting for the right moment” Lorenzo said.  
  
Harry smiled while they carried on:  
  
“We also used it this morning to distract the Italians” Lorenzo whispered. “Like this we had a higher chance that they would follow us and leave you alone.”  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
“Two birds with one stone” Marco whispered just as quietly. “That we could change clothes was only bonus.”  
  
Harry had visibly zoomed out when Marco had talked.  
  
“Why don’t we do this again?” he asked. “You know, leading them on. Michele’s worried they’ll follow and get us? Well, then they can follow us all they want, who cares! We’ll just do it like we just did: Lead them on with a red herring while the real treasure leaves behind their backs.”  
  
Everyone looked at Harry; Paddy frowned and the twins shared a glance.  
  
“Come on, if we have this”, Harry kicked the cases, so hard that one fell over with a sound that resonated sharp and loudly in the almost empty room.  
  
The twins quickly looked under the table and put the case back up. Harry, who had reached underneath as well, shoved them around a little so it’d look as neat again as it had before.  
  
“If we have the two cases anyways, we could put them to good use again” he said.  
  
“That’s really risky, Harry” Paddy said. “I don’t think it’s worth it and I really don’t think Michele will agree to this.”  
  
“ _We_ like it” the twins said in unison.  
  
“No risk, no fun” Harry said.  
  
Paddy sighed again and Charlie thought about how not only Michele was apparently really punishing or difficult for Paddy. The thought of it as bonding point for the couple amused him.  
  
“We’ll have to wait until Michele’s back and see” he said. “Where is he anyways? He wanted to go to a quiet place and I’m really curious where he thought he’d find one.”  
  
“Restrooms, I suppose” Marco said.  
  
“That’s usually the best place to have a private call” Lorenzo said.  
  
Charlie and Harry supressed a laugh.  
  
“I’ll better go and look for him then so I can tell him about the newest change of plans” Harry said.  
  
“Eventual change of plans” Paddy corrected him.  
  
“I guess I should just go and take care of the car then” Charlie said but the stairs creaked and Michele appeared.  
  
“Alright gentlemen” he started but Harry cut him off, jumped off his chair:  
  
“Wait, wait, wait. I don’t care for anything. Did you find a way to rent a car?”  
  
Michele had frowned and looked displeased and impatient when Harry had interrupted him.  
  
“I was just about to tell you – Yes and – “  
  
“No ‘and’s’, that’s all I need to know” Harry said and explained his plan to him. By the end of his explanation, the frown was gone completely and Michele looked delighted.  
  
“I like this idea, I do” he said. “It’s not easy but it could work, it could work so well.” He had talked to himself until he looked at Harry: “I want to kiss you for that,”, he grabbed Harry’s face with both hands and Charlie believe to hear a light slap, “I am _going_ to kiss you for that!”  
  
Michele released him immediately, hustled back to the table and left behind a slightly baffled Harry.  
  
“Silvio is renting a car right now, we’re trying to get a Mini, they just blend into the city traffic so well.” Michele said. “But now we have to decide who takes which car and who goes with them and who takes which case.”  
  
“I’m driving my own car, of course” Charlie said and Michele looked over to him before his look became unfocused.  
  
“And I‘m not going with Charlie then” Paddy said. Now Michele looked at him and even spoke up:  
  
“I thought about going with Charlie, anyways. And I want to keep the real painting.” Also, I’d say Harry then takes the case and the Mini – “  
  
“I can’t drive a car” Harry said and it went silent immediately. Michele’s mouth still hung slightly open from being interrupted so quickly but wasn’t the only one; the twins stared at him in surprise as well.  
  
“I mean, I know where the basics are but …” Harry said, unbothered by their looks. He shrugged.  
  
“Yeah, Frecky never got a driver’s license” Charlie said. He chuckled but the tension was unbroken.  
  
“Why?” Michele asked. He had found his voice again but spoke quietly and as baffled as he looked.  
  
“I never needed one? I don’t know why that’s so weird, I live in a goddamn capitol. With my family so if I needed a ride I could ask my dad, Paddy or Charlie. Soon I’ll just ask my sister – “  
  
Charlie thought, although without any real change in his voice, that Harry sounded like he defended himself.  
  
“Harry, you can’t just not have a license” Michele said.  
  
“What do I need the license for, Michele? If I really need to get away, I know how to with a car.”  
  
“That’s not the point, not the whole at least” Michele said. “It’s just so much more practical if you really can drive one and besides, you’re going to end up with a car accident, which is bad enough, but if you then don’t have a driver’s license, it could blow your cover. Why do you think people like us are mostly left alone by the state? Because, on the surface, we are the most orderly citizens there are!”  
  
“Enough of that, fact is Harry can’t drive and I’m not eager to let myself getting folded into the Porsche” Paddy interrupted the two. The volume of his voice made Charlie’s ears buzz for a second and him jump in his seat. “Harry can still go with the other car and either I or one of the twins drive.”  
  
“It would be pretty handy to have a southerner behind the wheel, wouldn’t it?” Lorenzo said.  
  
“We know how to get around here best, after all” Marco said.  
  
“I am not giving anyone the keys of my cars. Over my dead body” Charlie stated.  
  
“Even then you need someone at your side who helps you out, trust me Charlie, you’ll need it” Michele said. “Alright, but Paddy definitely takes the rented car then.”  
  
“Why don’t you take the rented car, Michele?” Harry asked. “As you said, it blends in. Have you seen Charlie’s car? It’s flashy as hell. We’re bound to attract attention.”  
  
“It’s _yellow_. Rubber duck yellow” Paddy said and grinned.  
  
“Your words fall on deaf ears with me” Charlie said.  
  
“So Michele, you’ll escape with the others without a single problem while me and Charlie take up the cross of distracting them.”  
  
“You two don’t know the place and driving habits” Michele replied.  
  
“Then we’ll take one of the twins with us” Harry said.  
  
“We’re not inventory” the twins said.  
  
Michele seemed pleased with that. “Okay. We’ll do it that way.”  
  
“Great” Harry said. He grinned at Michele and even if Charlie could have been mistaken, he felt a tension between them.  
  
“Would you look at that, we finally have a decent plan” he said and looked around.  
  
“I wouldn’t call it decent, but it’s a plan at last, yeah” Paddy said. Michele had turned to Charlie as well:  
  
“It’s not quite finished yet, either. We need to get the cars, I’ll need to choose a route to get out of here and we need a meeting point afterwards.”  
  
“If all roads lead to Rome, then all of them also lead elsewhere in return” Harry said. “We’ll just drive until we run out of gas and stay in contact to tell each other when that happens. The route is solely your thing – you said you’re the one who knows everything about this place, we can’t help you. And we can take care of the cars now. Get up Charlie!”  
  
“Yes boss” Charlie said amused.  
  
“Harry, I don’t even know if Silvio managed to rent one” Michele said and Harry and Charlie, who had gotten up, stopped and turned to him.  
  
His phone rung.  
  
“Is that him?” Harry asked mischievous glee written all over his face.  
  
“Don’t get your hopes up” Michele answered him first and then the phone.  
  
“Ciao Silvio.” Harry slapped Charlie’s arm and he listened intently. “At the place we picked out before? Good. On which name? Let’s hope they’ll buy it and it works. Thank you.”  
  
“He’s got the car” Charlie whispered.  
  
“Yes I did, don’t think I didn’t hear you” Michele said. “And wipe that grin off your face, Harry.”  
  
“Why don’t you do it, Michele?” he asked. “You still owe me a kiss. You can kiss me goodbye anyway, because I’m going to get Charlie’s car. We’ll meet at the car renting place, if that’s alright with you.”  
  
“I rather not, you’re going to draw attention to it” Michele said.  
  
“Then we’ll meet again here – where’s my jacket?”  
  
“Right here!” Marco threw it at him and Harry caught it with a “Thanks!”  
  
“We shouldn’t split up yet” Michele said.  
  
“We’re not splitting up yet, we’re just taking care of the car” Harry said. “You’ll go and get the other one and the twins can try to decide a route for both of us. Okay?”  
  
Michele’s shoulders sunk as well as the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Either you have a really good reason to keep them here or you’ll let them go” Paddy said. “We don’t have time for things like this.”  
  
“Love you, Michele” Harry said. “Goodbye kiss?”  
  
Michele looked around the empty room. Then he stood up and walked over to Harry. He grabbed his arm and kissed him. “Please be careful” he said.  
  
“You know me” Harry said and went down the stairs with Charlie.  
  
“I thought you said you’d chew him out, not eat him up” Charlie joked.  
  
“That’s not a calming answer, Harry!” Michele yelled after them.  
  
“It really isn’t” Charlie heard Paddy say.  
  
Harry cackled before he replied to Charlie: “Oh shut up, you’re just jealous. Rather tell me what happened with Marco while you were downstairs.”

 

* * *

  
Sophie had guessed right: The muffins had helped her with her emotional mess. Now she was only pissed off to hell and back which was exactly where she wanted to send these bloody muffins.  
  
Just a little black on the topside, they didn’t look bad but as soon as you bit into them, you discovered that they were still raw on the inside. She had eaten one and despite the blueberries, it hadn’t really taste good. On top of that, Soph felt as if she had just eaten a brick.  
  
“Technically I could bring them to school, but I wouldn’t even want to eat them myself” she said.  
  
She thought about what she could do with those muffins and her look went out of the window. She could see half of the tree that stood in Alby’s garden.  
  
Her stomach ache intensified, she turned away and looked around in the kitchen. She couldn’t focus on anything. After half a minute, she just put the muffins in a corner beside the stove and looked at the clock.  
  
It was close to nine o’clock.  
  
Some bells rang in the distance, long, powerful, polyphonic. They disrupted the daily buzz of the city, but they wouldn’t do it for long. At one point they’d go quiet and all that was left was the sound of busy Dublin. Busy even on a Sunday morning.  
  
Soph had enough of being busy. She was alone and frustrated and just wanted to pull a blanket over her head. She wanted to wait until the others came home and she didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. She never wanted to do anything again.  
  
Maybe she could ask Harry to excuse her absence for a day.  
  
She hadn’t been absent in a long time, excused anyways. It was less that she was a straight A student but more being afraid that the school would call Harry again and ask why she was missing so often or the simple act of asking Harry if she could stay at home.  
  
She had given up faking illnesses, since it only worried him more and made him irritable when he had to manage doctor appointments and work at once. Whether she had faked illness or couldn’t give him any other reason than a vague feeling, he had said the same things anyways: She should go to school, she can't repeat another year, he wanted her to keep up to date with school and school would give her some stability in this life without her father now.  
  
Soph knew them by heart and she also knew that he had a point, but she couldn’t function anymore. Maybe she caught her yearly cold or maybe she had seasonal depressions, but she was torpid. Harry had to accept that; and maybe, he’d take it more calmly now. With that in mind, she went back to the living room and lied down on the couch to sleep some more.  
  
As soon as she closed her eyes however, the avolition turned into restlessness. Her eyes flit to and fro behind her lids and when she tried to kept them still, they hurt. She turned around, but there was no avail: Her head hurt, her stomach acted up and her heat beat out of her chest.  
  
With tears in her eyes she sat up and looked for her phone. She had left it in the kitchen and went up to get it.  
  
Back on the couch, charger plugged into power strip and phone, she checked her messages. No message from Harry or the other two, but Maeve had answered her.  
  
‘Hey girl, how’s your morning’ she replied, ignoring what Maeve had sent before.  
  
‘My morning’s pretty good so far, how’s yours.’  
  
‘I fucking hate it.’  
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘Because my muffins are crap again. I keep making them but they never turn out edible.’  
  
Soph thought about telling her that she planned to not go to school tomorrow.  
  
‘We’re only doing our stuff for the party tonight, so no hurry Soph. Shall I come there and help you?’  
  
‘There’s nothing you could help with. The muffins just … go wrong by themselves. I don’t know if I have enough ingredients anyways.’  
  
‘Then I’ll bring you what you don’t have anymore. And if you don’t want to bake I can just come there and distract you a bit.’  
  
Soph held back a stupid comment like ‘That sounded wrong. But you can distract me all you want.’ She didn’t have the energy to explain how she felt in a long text either.  
  
Writing costed her energy, so she asked Maeve if she could call her instead.  
  
‘Sure, but use the landline before mom goes ballistic again. No wait, I’ll get ours and then I’ll call you.’  
  
‘Alright.’  
  
Soph put her phone away but couldn’t get herself to get up and get her landline until it rang.  
  
“Hi Maeve, I hate everything” she said.  
  
“And a jolly good morning to you” Maeve said. “What did the world do to you?”  
  
“First, it made me wake up at like fucking half past seven. And, even if that was early, I’m fairly sure I got my 8 hours of sleep anyways but now it’s 9 am and I am so tired again I can’t get anything done.”  
  
“Well then maybe you didn’t have your 8 hours of sleep and should lie down again. It’s just nine in the morning, you have the entire day to still do stuff.”  
  
“I tried but I couldn’t sleep either. I just turned from one side to the other, without settling down.”  
  
“Hmpf.” Maeve was silent for a while. “Have you eaten this morning already?”  
  
“A muffin that felt like a brick and now even the thought of eating something makes me want to throw up.”  
  
“Soph, are you becoming ill?”  
  
“I am fairly sure that’s just the muffin but I wouldn’t go so far and say that this muffin couldn’t make one ill.” She laughed but Maeve didn’t laugh with her. She swallowed. “But I also thought about that I’m ill. Maybe I’m catching a cold, or maybe it’s just … my mind. You know I’m seeing a psychiatrist and it could be seasonal depressions or maybe it’s the stress.”  
  
“I see …” Soph didn’t like her tone. Before she could pinpoint why, Maeve carried on: “I’m not your psychiatrist Soph, but if you want to talk with me about it, I’m here. I can come over too, and help. Even if it’s just listening again.”  
  
Hesitation. It had been hesitation. Maeve was treading on unknown ground and even when Soph felt treated with kid gloves and didn’t like it, her friend tried her best.  
“Thank you Maeve, but I don’t know if it’d help” Soph said. “It’s just so much, you know.”  
  
“Is it because of the baking? I can go there and help you with that, too.”  
  
“It’s the muffins, but it’s also … it’s just so much else.” Soph started to hyperventilate slightly.  
  
“It’s ok, Soph, it’s ok.” Her breathing was starting to become worse. She felt as if the entire world was coming down on her.  
  
“No it’s not.” She started to cough. It came from deep inside of her stomach. Tears dwelled in her eyes and she almost threw up.  
  
“Soph? Soph, are you okay? Soph, please – “  
  
She started crying.  
  
She told Maeve what had happened with Alby, how she missed her family, how baking just never worked and how she just wanted to crawl underneath a blanket and stop the world.  
  
“Oh god Soph, I’m so sorry to hear that” Maeve said. Soph thought she sounded croaky.  
  
“Don’t cry too, dammit” Soph said. “There’s nothing to cry about.”  
  
“It’s all bullshit … I’m coming over, okay? Right now.”  
  
“You don’t have to if you can’t.”  
  
“Leave it to me if I can or I can’t. I want to come and if mom or dad say no, they can stick it. You’re more important than any Sunday lunch or whatever they want to do else today.”  
  
“Thank you Maeve” Soph said. She hoped the smile on her lips was also noticeable in her voice. “This really helped a lot already.”  
  
“No problem. I’m there in 15 minutes and help you some more. See you.”  
“See you.” She waited until Maeve had ended the call.  
  
She put the phone back in its cradle, then leant over the drawer. After her stomach had calmed down, she slowly went upstairs and just as slowly changed her clothes. Whenever she sat down on her bed, she was reminded of how tired she actually was.  
  
Finally back on her feet and in new clothes that were not sweat through from spending the night on the couch, she yet felt a spark of motivation again. Her headache, her stomach cramps weren’t gone but her new cozy socks with the cow pattern on it lifted her spirits.  
  
When Maeve rung, Soph just wanted to open the door but in the last second, she remembered and turned the alarm system off; then she pressed the door release button.  
  
Maeve opened the door and Soph snorted.  
  
Maeve’s red head was encased in the hood of a thick winter jacket. Soph laughed even more when her glasses misted up.  
  
“What? It’s nice that you can laugh, but what’s so funny?!”  
  
“That you’re turning up here in full attire” Sophie said. “I went out earlier in a thinner jacket and that seemed to work just fine for me.”  
  
“Winter is coming, Soph!” Soph had another laughing fit. “Quit laughing, you …” Maeve grinned and chuckled herself. “It’s the last week of October!” She took her glasses off.  
  
“So you got your thickest jacket out but realized that Oh shit, it isn’t quite winter yet and didn’t zip it up?” Soph said. “That’s pretty half assed.”  
  
She was cleaning her glasses with her pullover and didn’t look at Soph but there was determination in her voice: “No, I didn’t zip it up because I was in a hurry so I’d be with you as soon as possible. Imagine how long it would have taken if my mom had protested even more!” She put her glasses on again, took off her jacket and hung it beside the cabinet in the doorway. “Now come here you poor thing.”  
  
Soph had felt better ever since Maeve had been through the door, that didn’t make the hug feel bad, though.  
  
Maeve felt cold and it gave Soph goose bumps at first but then she enjoyed the cold cloth against her almost sweating skin. Maeve was almost half a head taller and Soph buried her head at her shoulder.  
  
“It’s alright now girl” Maeve said.  
  
“I wish it would be” Soph muttered and sighed. Maeve rubbed over her back:  
  
“I’m here now, I’ll help you.”  
  
“Thank you.” She lingered on a little longer, then sighed and pulled herself out of the hug.  
  
“Just take your shoes off and come into the kitchen … Do you want tea?”  
  
“I’d love me some tea!”  
  
Soph stopped by the alarm system. She hesitated to turn it on again.  
She pressed the button.  
  
“Jesus, Soph, you’re sweating yourself to death in here” Maeve commented. She had walked past her into the main corridor and living room already. “What were you trying to do? Sauna against all the stress? Sweating off a few kilos?”  
  
“I just didn’t want to freeze!” Soph gave back and hurried into the kitchen whe she opened the tea cabinet.  
  
Neatly stapled into little wood boxes and ordered by kinds of tea, the entire cabinet held nothing but tea and accessories to brew it.  
  
“I think I’ll drown in my own sweat!” Maeve said when she stepped into the kitchen. “How about I turn the heater down and open the windows for ten minutes?”  
  
Soph sighed. “Be careful, okay? The alarm system is still on and sometimes there’s a false alert.”  
  
“Sure” Maeve said. Slowly, she opened the windows in the kitchen. “And now I’ll turn off the heater.”  
  
“Tell me what kind of tea you want first!” Soph said. “And you won’t turn the heater off!”  
  
“Soph, you don’t need to have T-Shirt temperatures in here!”  
  
“Then turn it down but not off!”  
  
“That’s what I said!”  
  
“You didn’t!”  
  
“Whatever, I’ll turn it down!” Maeve went out of the kitchen.  
  
“Okay!” Soph turned back to the cabinet: “What kind of tea do you want now?!”  
  
“Wait a second and I’ll be there!”  
  
“You’re driving me crazy!”  
  
“Dito! I should have never married you!”  
  
Soph laughed and turned on her electric kettle. “My mother warned me, but I didn’t want to listen to her!”  
  
Maeve came back into the kitchen with a grin on her face.  
  
“Here I am, let me look” she said and pulled some boxes out of the cabinet. Soph started to make space in the kitchen by cleaning the baking utensils by hand.  
  
“You’ve got a selection, my grandpa would be green with envy” Maeve said and Soph grinned.  
  
“I know. You keep telling us.”  
  
“Yeah, because it’s also like you never run out of tea … Did you buy most of that at one point and thought it tasted like shit but didn’t throw it away? That’s how my grandpa does it. Collects tea that he saves up for special occasions and then there’s some no one of us likes but he keeps anyways.”  
  
“I don’t think we really have any tea like that.” Soph cocked her head and looked at the ceiling while drying a spoon. “Of course, there’s some old tea in there, but it’s just because we don’t drink it often, unlike, say, breakfast tea. But when we feel like it or if some other tea one of us wanted instead is gone, we drink those. If you give us a year or two, I think we have re-newed our entire cabinet.”  
  
“How fascinating. The circle of tea, in a way.” Maeve had climbed the kitchen counter, knelt on it and taken out most of the boxes in the cabinet. Now she reached for a small, round metal box in the back.  
  
“Oh don’t bother, that’s coffee” Soph said. “Unless you want some coffee instead, then just suit yourself.”  
  
Maeve gave her a bewildered look and carefully, she put it back. “Since when do you and your brother drink coffee?” she asked.  
  
“We don’t. I think … Harry bought it for guests. There are some people from work who visit him sometimes and they probably don’t like tea.” Soph’s heart raced, but she tried not to show anything. “Also, I think Charlie sometimes drinks coffee.”  
  
“Ah, okay” Maeve said, climbing down from the kitchen counter. “What a traitor to his country. Drinking coffee.”  
  
Soph chuckled. “That’s what me and Harry told him, too.”  
  
While Soph was cleaning the last pieces, Maeve looked through the boxes.  
  
“Do you need any help?” she asked in between but Soph shook her head.  
  
“Ah no, I’m fine, just chose something.”  
  
Soph was still busy when the kettle started to vibrate and bubble. Before she could reach for it, Maeve did.  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it. What kind of tea do you want?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know. Some black tea.”  
  
“Breakfast tea?”  
  
Soph frowned and pressed her lips together. “Hm, nooo. I think there are some other Assam in there.”  
  
Maeve shoved teabags, -cartons and packages aside. “There’s a pack of loose Assam.”  
  
“Oh, that’s Harry’s. Well his bad if I drink it. Life punishes those who delay. Use it.”  
  
“Aye aye captain” Maeve said and fetched the box with tea infusers and accessories. “Is that a bat?” she suddenly asked and held one of the infusers up by its chain.  
  
“No, it’s the batman symbol” Soph said with a dry but wide grin and Maeve rolled her eyes.  
  
As the tea steeped, Soph finished her cleaning and put the dishes away. Before she could enjoy her tea however, she closed the windows. “I’m freezing my arse off.”  
  
“It’s really getting quite cold now” Maeve said. She blew her tea before taking a sip and Soph threw her a glare.  
  
“You were the one who opened the windows!”  
  
“I didn’t complain about it being cold! I just acknowledged it, don’t be such a wimp Soph.”  
  
“I didn’t complain about it either!” She rubbed her arms. Goosebumps collided with her pullover and made her skin painfully prickly. “And I’m not a wimp!”  
  
“True, it also takes quite something to endure heat like this, too” Maeve said.  
  
“Especially cause I think it’s open to question if the air in here was actually breathe-able.”  
  
Her eyebrows furrowed. “I haven’t collapsed before you came, now did I? There’s tons of fresh air outside, if I want some I’ll just go there, but there’s only warm air inside of this house, I can’t waste that.” Soph looked out of her window again and saw that the tree in Alby’s garden was still losing leaves. He’d have to go and rake them again. Her stomach turned at the thought.  
  
“Just because it’s rare doesn’t automatically mean it’s good” Maeve said. She took a sip of her tea while Soph sat down. “And I highly doubt you’ll go outside just to catch some fresh air.”  
  
“I do that sometimes, just sitting on my front porch to clear my head” she said. She turned her tea cup in her hands. “But even the thought of going outside stresses me out now.”  
  
“Hey Soph, don’t worry about that.” Maeve almost cooed the words, had it not been for a certain tone Soph believed to hear whenever Maeve spoke. Firm and determined, a tangible sign for the stability of her character. “There was absolutely nothing wrong with what you did.”  
  
It couldn’t stabilise Soph’s own mind.  
  
“I don’t know if there wasn’t, Maeve. The only thing he did was making me feel uncomfortable, I could have just shut up and let it rest. Instead I basically called him a creepy stalker in broad daylight and that’s just rude and really inappropriate when he maybe was just … annoying.”  
  
Maeve furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t know Soph. Old grandmas and grandpas, who are afraid that something will happen to you when you are all alone and offer their help, are annoying. Men in their thirties, who invite themselves in because you are bored, are creepy as hell. You were right for telling him off and very brave for it, too, in my opinion. Many people just shut up”, she made an abrupt, short pause, “Look at how worried and afraid you are now but you have done it regardless. That’s brave and admirable.”  
  
“Probably …” She sighed.  
  
Maeve had said she was right, now there was nothing to fear anymore. She hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of anyone, most certainly not in front of Alby. She could walk out there with head held high in front of him. She had not to be embarrassed in front of her family either and could tell them without any worries about it when they were back. She was right and they would be with her and call her brave, too.  
“I’m still afraid of him” she said and her eyes started to water. “What if he wants to talk to me and is going to be rabid about it? What if he is going to want to talk to me at all or is going to make me feel bad now by asking what is wrong, he did nothing wrong …” Her voice was tear choked, she had started to cry again.  
  
Maeve reached out to stroke her back.  
  
“It’s okay Soph, you told him off once already, you can do this again – “  
  
“I don’t know! I don’t know if I can, Maeve!” Her voice was shrill and she felt a sting in her chest. “Maybe now he’s pissed off and does only god knows what!”  
  
“If he does, then punch him!”  
  
Maeve’s advice had sounded desperate but Soph felt something comforting, pleasant deep inside of her at the thought. It stayed after she caught her breath, too.  
  
“Self-defence” Maeve added meekly before she could think further about it. “If he really does something that deserves a punch, but we should hope he does nothing, I’m sure he won’t do anything you wouldn’t be able to deal with. If you want me to, I could stay the night, though.”  
  
Soph gave her a sceptical look. “A sleepover on a school night? You really think your parents are going to allow this?”  
  
“I don’t give a damn what they say, if you need me I’ll stay here! They’d need to come and get me if they’d want me to come home!”  
  
Soph started to smile brightly but then buried her face in her hands. She pulled them once through her face, then rubbed her eyes.  
  
“Thank you but I still have the alarm system and I’m not afraid of staying alone at home. I’m just afraid of running into him outside.”  
  
“But I feel bad for leaving you alone … What about Charlie’s mom, she’s at home right? Maybe you could ask her to come over. Or stay the night at her place, we can both go there.”  
  
“No, I don’t want to worry her either! Or just bother her! And if I tell her, she’s going to ask things and maybe tell the others.”  
  
“I’m sure she wouldn’t, Soph. After all you told me and what I know from seeing her, she doesn’t seem like that kind of person. You could also just tell her you feel lonely or something.” Maeve shrugged and sighed. “She’d worry, but Soph, they worry because they love you. They don’t want you to get hurt.”  
  
Soph looked away. “All that hurts me is my head. There’s no real threat, I’m making a mountain out of a molehill and I don’t want to drag anyone else into this. I’d bother her anyway, for nothing.”  
  
Maeve frowned. “Just because nothing really bad happened yet? Because he was all nice and subtle about it? Guys like him are usually a threat. He just thinks you’re stupid enough to trust him when he plays nice, and that doesn’t make him any less of a predator. So don’t think anything you thought and think about him is unjustified.  
  
“And words hurt too. You don’t want to go out alone because of what he said. I’d say that’s reason enough to tell the others and look for help if you can’t manage it alone.”  
  
Soph swallowed. Nothing had happened yet and probably nothing would be going to happen, either. It stuck to her though, and she’d carry the fear, anxiety with her and maybe it would add up with other things and lead to another breakdown. As long as her family didn’t know about it, as long as she kept it a secret, it would weigh upon her. Something had happened and Soph would already pay a toll if she didn’t deal with it.  
  
“I still have to go out there sooner or later” she muttered. “When I have to go to school tomorrow by the latest.”  
  
“I could take you to school” Maeve said. “I could even ask my dad if he can drive us. Or my mom.”  
  
Her first impulse was again to turn down any help offered just so she wouldn’t cause anyone trouble, but Soph gave in to her common sense, which told her that she should accept help when she would just put herself to some bother otherwise.  
  
“That’d be nice.”  
  
Maeve smiled: “See? We found a solution. And now we’ll drink tea and bake cake.”  
  
Soph’s mood and the corners of her mouth dropped immediately: “We could also just drink tea and not bake cake. Fuuuck, I’m hungry, I’m making myself something to eat, do you want some? I also have perfectly fine muffins here.”  
  
“I just had breakfast.” Maeve said. With the ghost of a grin she said: “And I also wouldn’t risk eating anything you made.”  
  
“Fuck you for having a working survival instinct” Soph said and laughed with Maeve. “You know, I thought I could finally get rid of you and your stupid, window-opening ideas.”  
  
Maeve snorted. “Wrongly thought” she said, but shook again with silent laughter when she took a sip of her tea.  
  
Soph had forgotten everything they had just talked about. Words could hurt but simply talking with someone could also lift the weight of worlds of one’s shoulders.

 

* * *

  
“On what damn level did you park your car?!”  
  
The staircase had an echo and their steps and voices resonated loudly in it. Not that Harry tried to be quiet. If they didn’t know their faces, how should they have been able to find them by their voices?  
  
“The fifth! For the second time now!” Charlie said.  
  
“Are you sure? Because for me it feels like the fiftieth!”  
  
“Oh come on Harry, are you really out of breath yet because of the few stairs?”  
  
Harry looked back at Charlie while he kept moving forwards: “You wish! Just in case you’ve forgotten it, we’re in a hurry, and this takes too damn long for me!”  
  
Harry turned his head around and was greeted by a door with a big five on it.  
  
“I assure you Harry, my car will not run away from us” Charlie said. “Cars very rarely do that and I have a very well-behaved car, too.”  
  
“I’m not afraid of it running from us but from someone running to us” Harry said and Charlie bit his lip while Harry opened the door.  
  
A boy stood by Charlie’s car and eyed up its rear bumper.  
  
When he heard the heavy door, he looked over to them. Harry tensed up while Charlie slowly walked towards his car. The boy didn’t move.  
  
Harry’s legs were so strained he thought they were one with the concrete. “Oi, what are you doing?” he shouted.  
  
The boy flinched and straightened himself up. Harry had taken a few steps, now stopped in his tracks.  
  
He couldn’t be older than 15, 16. He was around Harry’s height and as pale as him, too. His hair was a pastel pink.  
  
“Nothing” he said quietly, turned around and strode away with stiff steps.  
  
Harry looked at Charlie who, with a doubtful expression, looked at the boy and then at him.  
  
Harry jumped and went after him. “Hey, stop, please!”  
  
He did and Harry noticed how stiff his entire body was.  
  
“Hey, don’t be so scared, I just wanted to know what you were looking for at our car.”  
  
The boy took a deep breath but didn’t say anything. His shoulders were still pulled up halfway to his neck and he reminded Harry of a deer in the headlight.  
  
“Did you just find the car interesting? Or was it the license plate?” Harry pressed him.  
  
He was just a boy and didn’t fit right in with any of Vargas’ minions they had seen so far. Harry even took pity on him, but it wasn’t reflected in his voice. He took pity on a shy civilian boy, but had no sympathy for a young spy of Vargas who was simply mortified about fucking up. As long as he had no clues to confirm either, he tried to sound neutral at best.  
  
“Just the car” he finally said. “I did nothing, I swear, I just took a look at it. Read what the bumper sticker said.”  
  
Harry recognized his accent as Norwegian and most of the strain fell from him  
  
“I didn’t think you did anything“ he said with a smile. “It’s a really nice car. I mean, I assume it is, my friend is the car fetishist.”  
  
“I’m not a car fetishist, Frecky” Charlie said. He closed the petrol cap and spun the key once around his fingers. “I’m a car lover, an appreciator. And proud owner of this baby. So you like my car, boy? Or just the bumper sticker?” He looked directly at the boy.  
  
“I like both” he said; he had dropped his shoulders but his voice still shook a little.  
  
“Then I suppose you also know a little about it” Charlie said with a grin. “The car I mean, the sticker is rather self-explanatory.”  
  
The boy returned it with a sheepish smile:” Yeah … No. I only know it’s a Porsche.”  
  
“Well, that’s at least something.” Charlie put a hand on the car’s roof. “It’s a Porsche 911 Carrera, 997 Model from 2011, basically fresh out of the fabric when I bought it. 345 PS, highest speed of 287 km/h due to a six cylinder boxer engine and goes from zero to hundred in only 4,7 seconds, thanks to Porsche’s double clutch transmission.”  
  
“And it’s gaudy rubber duck yellow, guzzles tons of petrol and its backseat was not added for sitting” Harry said.  
  
“Yes, it was added for transporting more things than the trunk can carry and also transporting people!” Charlie shouted at Harry who cackled in return. “And it doesn’t guzzle tons of petrol, do you know how much Paddy’s car uses up?”  
  
Harry just shrugged before he looked back to the boy. “So you just wanted to look at our car. Nice that we have cleared that up.”  
  
“Yeah” he said. “Thanks for the info, too.” Before Harry could think about how to stop their conversation, a woman called for the boy. He shouted something back in Norwegian and threw only one last look at them, then ran down the ramp to the other lots.  
  
“Car fetishist? What the fuck Frecky?” Charlie asked. His eyes went back to his phone just like his fingers and its flashlight clicked on.  
  
“Mate, you only bought the model with a backseat for fucking, you’re a car fetishist” Harry said while he returned.  
  
“That was not my entire thought process behind buying one with backseat, first of all” Charlie said before he went on his knees and laid flat on his stomach, lit up the dark beneath the car with the flashlight. “And secondly” he said, his voice sounded strained now, “the first time I actually tried it, I found out “, another pause followed and Charlie’s eyes turned from the ground under the car to its underside, “that the backseat is actually horrible for that purpose and the two or four times I did it after that realisation, it was in one of the front seats.”  
  
“I am so glad to hear that” Harry said and he pulled a face while doing so. “I feel disgusted when I only have to think of sitting there.” He looked around while Charlie didn’t answer him, but they were completely alone by now; the only noises he heard were the ones coming from outside.  
  
“Alright, everything alright here as well” Charlie muttered before he got back up and patted the dirt off his clothes. “And don’t be like that Harry. It’s all clinically clean, do you think I’d even take the chance of my car getting any kind of dirt on it? It’s so clean in there you could eat from it. Which you won’t because that leaves dirt and I won’t drive, nevertheless fuck, in a car polluted like this.” Charlie swept over the roof of his car: “I’d never to this you, right baby? Don’t worry.”  
  
“Please stop about talking how you actually shagged people in that car, because it really is the thought that counts” Harry said and kept his eyes on Charlie when he walked around him. Once he stopped, he opened the hood and Harry took a step back.  
  
“What are you actually looking for?” he asked when Charlie pulled his phone out and shone a light on the engine bay.  
  
“Hopefully nothing” Charlie replied. “I don’t know with what tricks those Italians play and I thought better safe than sorry. So before I get inside and notice that something isn’t alright, I’d rather check it before.”  
  
“Have you found anything yet?” Harry asked.  
  
“Luckily not” Charlie replied. “At least nothing I could spot with my amateur eyes. But there is nothing in the tank, I don’t have a hole or other damaged parts beneath my car and …“ He picked and turned at parts in the bay gingerly. Harry watched when he felt the back of his neck crawl. Abruptly he turned around. There was no one however; even after a closer look the entire lot was still empty.  
  
“Yes, everything seems to be alright with my engine and the battery as well” Charlie caught his attention again. “I was at my favourite and specialised car shop before I set for the continent and they checked everything. So, if it’s all as alright as I deem it,“ he put his phone away and closed the hood with his clean hand, “then we will have zero problems.“  
  
“That’d be the first time that’d happen this weekend” Harry said and Charlie chuckled.  
  
“There’s a first time for everything” he said when he pulled his car remote out.  
  
The headlight blinked, accompanied by the mechanic sound of the central locking that resonated loudly.  
  
“Oh, music to my ears” Charlie cheered and went over to the front of the car, just like Harry. “I can already hear the sound of the motor starting and howling.”  
  
“Car fetishist, I knew it” Harry said with a grin and pulled the car door open in the same second as the heavy staircase door made a sound.  
  
Out came a ranting Italian woman. She quickly looked around before her eyes focused on them. Fixed on them.  
  
Harry’s world was on a standstill and his instinct told him fight or flight. He had already decided on fight, but still hesitated.  
  
She pulled her phone out and turned around. Harry snapped and sprinted after her.  
She was quickly down the stairs, even with her phone pressed against her ear. Harry couldn’t see her when he reached the staircase.  
  
He was quicker however and jumped down an entire flight of stairs at once when he spotted her again. His knees ‘thanked him’ for it when he landed. He crashed into her and threw her against a wall.  
  
Her yelp sounded high, loud and sharp so close to his ear. His torso and arms were up against her chest and shoulders.  
  
After the first shock, she started to struggle and Harry raised the pressure. He put his right arm against her shoulders and collarbone and pressed his hips and legs against her.  
  
“Who are you?” he asked firmly and quickly.  
  
“Let me go!” she yelled back.  
  
“You’re one of Vargas, aren’t you?!”  
  
“I don’t know you! Let me go!”  
  
Out of the corners of his eyes he saw her phone. He snatched it from her hand.  
  
“Give it back!”  
  
The caller ID was just a set of numbers so he pressed the phone to his ear. He heard her breathe and curse directly into his other ear.  
  
“Signorina Mariani? Hello? Kristin?” He barely understood the words but he did recognize the voice. Too many names flew around in his head, but he had a picture. Vargas’ right hand man.  
  
She slapped him across his face and his head was thrown around. He stumbled backwards. Before she could properly use the little space she gained now he slammed her phone down on the floor. His other arm slid upwards and pressed against her throat. He leant onto her with his entire body.  
  
Their faces were only centimetres apart. He looked her directly in the eyes. He saw every little motion on her face. He heard her gasps, gurgles, mixed with his own breath and groans. He felt and smelt her breath on his face.  
  
Her eyes fell shut and she stopped gasping. When Harry stepped back, she slid down the wall.  
  
She had almost reached the floor until Harry _realized._  
  
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a halfway sitting position, leant against the wall.  
  
A thousand thoughts ran in his head –  
  
_What if she was a civilian, just an innocent, what if I killed her or did anything that leaves damage, brain damage, I can’t kill her, that would be escalating the situation, I never wanted this, just for Michele’s stupid painting, nobody should be hurt just for some snobby bastards’ entertainment what if I killed a civilian, an innocent, killed an innocent_  
  
– but he made himself check her breathing by holding a hand in front of her mouth.  
  
Flat but steadily breathing.  
  
His hands moved mechanically when he went to check her pulse and if Harry could have thought anything at all, it would have been that he didn’t feel human right now.  
  
Still beating.  
  
He looked down on her and registered that he moved. It was all that was in his head right now: mindless, physical actions.  
  
_Now you have to move her somewhere else, in a separate, best locked, place -  
_  
The heavy door opened and broke the spell. Harry felt again.  
  
How his heart beat out of his chest. How bonecrushingly afraid he was. How what he had done had consequences.  
  
Steps came closer and Harry jumped back into a standing position. Charlie came around the corner and Harry froze.  
  
Charlie’s look shifted between him and the woman, but the uncomfortable expression on his face stayed.  
  
“Help me” Harry said, firm enough to chase the expression out of Charlie’s face.  
  
It was replaced by an even worse bland of neutrality as he came over. His eyebrows  
  
relaxed and no longer arched, his eyes no longer filled with worry but a blank stare at most and the lips, who had twitched nervously, now neither pouted nor smiled.  
  
“She’s not dead, just knocked out” Harry hastily added. “We just need to bring her somewhere else, we can’t leave her here.”  
  
“Okay, alright.” Life came back into Charlie, emotions back onto his face and the machine was gone.  
  
Life was prone to leave you behind in an empty emotionless shell to deal with how you had just taken it from someone else.  
  
Harry knew it and he knew that Charlie knew it, how it was when you temporarily died to keep on living. They simply didn’t talk about it.  
  
“But where should we put her? Any ideas already?” Charlie asked. Harry pulled at her legs a little while Charlie held her shoulders and paid attention her head didn’t hit anything.  
  
“I don’t know Charlie” Harry said. He glanced at his fingers for a second, but even though they felt like shaking he didn’t see it. “You’ve been here before, did you see anything? We need something like a closed room.” He put his hands and arms under her legs while Charlie stabilized her neck and head.  
  
Charlie just wanted to say something when they lifted her.  
  
“My, you certainly don’t look your weight, girl” he said. “A closed room, closed means closed for everyone here. Although we could take her to the pay machines and leave her there. It’s an area closed off from there parking lots, people do come there but it’s not too frequented, look at how empty it is. And even if people come, then maybe she is just one of the homeless who’s seeking for a more sheltered place in this cold time.”  
  
He only needed a second – or at least that was how long it felt to him – to think about it.  
  
“It’s the best thing we have.”  
  
“Alright, then we have to go downstairs” Charlie said. Harry started to walk backwards and down the stairs with much more concentration than it usually took him. Fixed on keeping his arms from shaking, they started to hurt from being stiff. They took special care to keep her steady and at the same time tried not to slow down too much.  
  
It was the purest state of stress.  
  
“Now we take that door” Charlie wheezed quietly and Harry threw a short look over his shoulder to see a door with a two on it.  
  
“And there is no one?” he asked while he pressed the door handle down with his elbow. His knee broke away under the woman’s weight.  
  
Charlie’s fingers dug into her for a second when she dropped. Harry steadied himself with difficulty while Charlie said:  
  
“I don’t know if there is anyone, it wasn’t much frequented when I got there this Friday. I can look beforehand, now, though, or you can, then I’ll hold her.”  
  
“No – I mean yes, we should take a look around anyways. So when it’s as empty as today, there is no one at the pay machines?” Harry’s voice started to crumble.  
  
“I suppose? That’s the logical consequence.”  
  
“Charlie, is there anyone regularly – “ He said it urgently.  
  
“I don’t know! There are just a few machines, nothing more!” Charlie’s word almost tripped over each other.  
  
“Okay!” Harry said. He swallowed and allowed himself a second to think. “And there aren’t many people?”  
  
“I suppose” Charlie said. “It’s past the season for this so I don’t think many people park here. It’s a long stay parking block after all.”  
  
“Yes” Harry hastily said just to cut off Charlie’s garbling, for it made the chaos in his own head worse. Silence ensued. “Alright, one of us has to take a look. Where’s the room?”  
  
“To the left. It’s behind a door like this … I mean – “  
  
“Do you think I’ll find it or do you want to go?”  
  
Charlie tensed up before he said: “I’ll go.”  
  
“Alright” Harry said and hunkered down to put her off. When Charlie did the same, he said “Keep her up, I’ll take her from you.”  
  
Charlie stood up again and pulled her up a little higher.  
  
Harry put her legs down and went over to Charlie. It was a complicate and delicate act with arms and hands getting in each other’s way, but in the end he managed to hold her the same way as Charlie had before.  
  
“I’ll be right back” Charlie said. Harry nodded. Charlie left and the noise of his steps was cut off once the door closed.  
  
Now he heard his own breath very well in the empty staircase. He leant forwards with his head to check her breathing. He felt it on his cheek and even heard it once he held his own breath.  
  
She could wake up any minute. Harry didn’t know what he would do then. They had to keep her quiet.  
  
He remembered the possibility of her being a civilian.  
  
The weight rested on his chest and made it harder to breathe.  
  
Charlie returned.  
  
“There are a few cars but they belong to people that are working. I mean, I don’t know – “Charlie stopped himself the second Harry would have interrupted him:  
  
“Don’t know what?”  
  
“Nothing. There aren’t any people, there are probably not going to come any and no one’s at the pay machines either. Let’s get this over with.” Charlie went to pick up her legs and Harry nodded.  
  
Just like Harry, Charlie’s knee broke away when he opened the door. He quickly caught himself, pushed the door open and they walked out.  
  
Some cars stood around the lot, but not a single person was in sight or hearing. Charlie steered them to another heavy door and behind it was a little room with two pay machines. There was another door at the other end and Harry reasoned that it led outside from the noises that came behind from it.  
  
“Let’s lean her against the wall” he said. He put his own back against the wall and after some more balancing acts, she sat in the corner between the door inside and one of the pay machines.  
  
Harry took a step back. He leant down to her. He didn’t know what he was thinking.  
  
Harry turned her head, it rested on her chest, around.  
  
He didn’t know he was thinking.  
  
He put a hand in front of her mouth.  
  
Flat, but steadily breathing.  
  
He swallowed and his fingers reached for her neck. It just happened.  
  
It took a while but in the end he managed to find the vein.  
  
Still beating.  
  
He got up and looked down on her one last time.  
  
“Let’s go” Charlie whispered and as if it had pressed a button, Harry turned away and went back.  
  
His arms hurt, his legs hurt when they sprinted up the stairs in silence, but Harry barely noticed it, there was something that perturbed him more than any physical matter could.  
  
When he had looked down on her, there had been something in the back of his head but only when Charlie had spoken to him, it had started to take form.  
  
_She’s been unconscious for a damn long time already._  
  
Harry knew it and he knew that Charlie knew it, that it wasn’t normal to be unconscious for so long. They simply didn’t dare to talk about it.  
  
On their way upstairs, Harry stumbled over her phone. He picked it up; it’s display had a big crack and a thousand tiny all over them.  
  
“What is this?” Charlie asked. He had stopped a meter or two ahead of Harry.  
  
“Her phone” Harry said. He started to remember, bits and pieces of information became full sentences.  
  
“She had called someone and I took it from her. There was one of Vargas’ right hands on the other end. Fuck me if I knew who, the big bald one.”  
  
Kristin Mariani. _That’s her name_ , Harry thought but couldn’t make a connection. Even if the info seemed strangely important to him, he didn’t see a reason why he should tell it to Charlie.  
  
“What do we do with it?” Charlie asked and Harry pushed the thought aside.  
  
“I’ll keep it, let’s go” he said.  
  
Arrived on level 5, Charlie pressed the car remotes but nothing happened.  
  
“Me idiot left her unlocked!” he said in a high voice, with eyes wide open and hands motioning like they wanted to run through his hair.  
  
Harry started to laugh, interspersed with coughs and latter might have been the reason Charlie only glared at him once they were inside of the car.  
  
“That’s not funny! Something could have happened” he said and put the key in the ignition, started the car and put in another gear.  
  
“Yeah” Harry said and started to laugh again. He was completely out of breath. “It was funny in the way you said it.”  
  
“There’s nothing funny about that something could have happened to my baby.”  
  
Harry laughed so hard he straight up didn’t make a sound anymore. “Right, that too, that you called your car a her.” He breathed in. “Does Marco know already he’ll be just a side ho to your car?”  
  
“I’ll probably be the side ho to his sewing machine, so I think he can live with that” Charlie said without taking his eyes from the street as he drove down the levels.  
  
Harry smiled but his eyes quickly stopped when he looked down on the damaged phone in his hand.  
  
“I’ll better call Michele” he said.  
  
“Good idea” Charlie said without any enthusiasm.  
  
Harry put the phone in his the pocket of his jacket and pulled his own out.  
  
“Come on, get me some reception” he muttered. His heart beat sped up and Harry believed his fingers started to shake again. An adrenaline rush or maybe a full blown panic attack coming to late was the last thing he needed right now.  
  
Charlie drove into the exit lane and put on the handbrake.  
  
“Please tell me I was stupid and put the chip somewhere here and not left it in the hotel” he said while his hand rummaged around his car. Harry opened the glove compartment while he waited for Michele to pick up.  
  
“Pronto?” Michele answered while Charlie leant over his lap.  
  
“Hey Michele, I want … to – “  
  
“Eureka!” Charlie said and snatched the chip from the glove compartment. “Three cheers for my carelessness!”  
  
“- give you a quick report.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Harry took a moment to gather and sort his thoughts. “We’re almost out of the parking block. We met a … someone of the Vargas’. I knocked her out before anything happened and we … moved on. That’s all.”  
  
Michele took a second to answer and when he did, he did it in one breath: “Harry, tell me what happened with that woman.”  
  
“Oh shit!” Charlie cursed and Harry jumped in his seat. Charlie switched the gear and drove backwards; every little stop when he turned shook both of them.  
  
“What are you doing?!”  
  
“I drove into the wrong lane!”  
  
“You bloody idiot!”  
  
“Harry!” Michele commanded.  
  
“Yes!” Harry focused on the call again. “Someone came and then ran away as soon as she saw us. Came through the door, saw us and turned on her heel. I followed and caught her. She was calling someone when I caught her and when I too her phone, I heard the voice of one of Vargas’ man. The … big bald one – “  
  
“Bellini” Michele impatiently tossed in.  
  
“I guess. I couldn’t let her go, so I knocked her out by a choke hold and me and Charlie brought her to a quiet corner.”  
  
“Harry, hold that chip against that field” Charlie said and pressed the chip into Harry’s hand. Harry rolled his eyes but let the window down.  
  
“And she was really just unconscious, I checked her pulse and her breathing several times and the last time immediately before we left” Harry said. While he pressed the chip against the machine, Charlie’s hand went over to open the glove compartment again. “Nothing really happened.”  
  
Nothing really happened with the bar in front of them either and Harry stared displeased at the chip and turned it.  
  
He heard Michele sigh deeply. “Anything else concerning that … incident?” He sounded tired.  
  
“On the way back to the car I took her phone. I think I broke it, though. Threw it down when I caught her.”  
  
“You took her phone with you? You still have it?”  
  
Charlie readjusted the rear-vision mirror and put a comb back into the glove compartment.  
  
“Yes – “ Harry answered.  
  
“Why! Throw it away!”  
  
“Michele – “  
  
“Throw it out!” Michele yelled.  
  
“Why?!” Harry yelled back. He pressed the chip to another field.  
  
“Because if it’s a phone of Vargas’ minion, they can track it!”  
  
The bar lifted.  
  
Charlie started driving.  
  
Sun came into Harry’s eyes who blankly stared ahead.  
  
“Oh shit” he said and frantically dug around in his pockets for the phone. He dropped the coin simply on the car floor. Once he found it, he almost throw his own phone out, stopped himself last minute and Kristin Mariani’s phone hit the concrete ground.  
“Harry, close the window, it’s getting cold” Charlie said after that spectacle with a concerned and confused look on Harry.  
  
“Shut up Charlie” Harry said. His nerves were frazzled.  
  
“Harry?” Michele asked.  
  
“I threw the phone out” he said. He could literally feel his heartbeat in his throat. “We’ll be … where should we go to?”  
  
“Back to the café, Marco’s waiting there for you. Are you alright?”  
  
Harry laughed wryly. “Hear you later, Michele.”  
  
“Harry, are you – “  
  
“I don’t think I have a piece of mind left right now, Darling, but don’t worry.”  
  
“Frankly, that’s not comforting me at all. Stay safe Harry. Ciao Tresoro.”  
  
“I’m not making any promises I can’t hold. Love ya, Darling. Back to the café” he told Charlie.  
  
“Very well.” Not even a second went by and Charlie’s tone became a little more pressing: “May I ask what the stunt with the phone was?”  
  
“No.” Harry said. “You may not.” He didn’t want to do anything anymore. He needed a pause of everything.  
  
It simply was not granted him when he looked out of his window.  
  
“Oh fuck” he muttered and pressed himself into his seat.


	16. Personal Impacts

Feliciano was an optimist but when situations got more stressful, his optimism usually faded to a noise in the back of his mind. It still helped him to keep up a friendly and halfway collected attitude towards others and to not completely despair over the chaos he faced.   
  
That being said, it still meant that he despaired a great deal over the chaos he most often created himself.   
  
Right now he was standing in one of the conference rooms but it was a rare moment; most of the time he flitted from here over to his office and back again. Because he wanted to work in the conference room, he carried things from his office into it. From time to time he left again because he needed to look up a file or a note, maybe something he had saved on his main pc and in this case, he often settled in his office for the next few minutes to work instead. Until he needed something from the conference room and the migration began again …   
  
Whenever one of the subordinates caught him on the hallway during it they threw him a pitiful look. Sometimes a confused one, too, when Feliciano was making a phone call using his wireless ear bud.   
  
Upon being asked if everything was alright by Rosetta, he only displayed a bashful smile. “I’m fine, everything’s under control!”  
  
She and her colleague Ermete gave him a skeptical look before they left and Feliciano started to hurry from room to room again.   
  
Tough now, he had come to a stop to stare a little helplessly at the heap of paper around the wheezing laptop.    
  
A battery cooler pad would maybe help the latter one, they had bought those after all in case of those poor little computers not being able to handle the ambitions of their user.   
  
That Feliciano, not being a very organized person, couldn’t handle them either wasn’t quite the greatest preposition for his field of activity.   
  
Always creating chaos that became too much for him when he was stressed was actually a terrible preposition for his entire profession.   
  
Thank God he wasn’t alone. Dolcetto was still at the office as well after they all had told him _for love’s sake you need to rest, you can’t throw yourself into the fray again._ Grudgingly, he had accepted it and now sat in his office, munched painkillers and played satellite dish. All the information he gathered went straight to Francesco who organized it before it found its way over to Feliciano.   
  
Even though he managed to make a mess again out of the already collected and organized information, Feliciano was grateful for the existence of the two.   
  
Those were Feliciano’s thoughts while he actually should be _doing_ something, like a map to track Michele’s route so far and make some predictions about his current whereabouts.   
  
His heart skipped a beat when the buzz of his earbud startled him.   
“Pronto?” he asked and hoped that the heartbeat in his throat could be sold as enthusiasm in his voice.   
  
“Oi, Signore Vargas, I can’t do nothing with these damned descriptions” he said. Feliciano had no idea who ‘he’ was, although he immediately thought it had to be one of their subordinates.   
  
“Ain’t you’ve got some pictures aside from the O’Connel guy for me?”  
  
Apparently one of the subordinates scalding Rome right now for Michele and Co.   
_  
Are there even any other kind of subordinates right now?_  
  
Feliciano pushed the thought aside but his brain was still lacking oxygen – his heart seemed to pump all it’s got into his limbs right now – so that only a dumbstruck “Uh” left his lips.   
  
“You see, I get that they should be easy to spot” the man explained. Feliciano was starting to get both worried and annoyed that he didn’t know his name. “One big guy, another normal one, both pale and redheads. But I can’t work like that, I need a face to work with.”  
_  
So do I_ Feliciano thought but it was discarded quickly when his brain started to work again.   
  
“I’ll see what I can do!” he replied. “And I’ll be sure to do it quickly!” he added.    
  
“Thank you, Signore Vargas” the man said and hung up.   
  
His heartbeat had calmed down to what was maybe not a normal or healthy rate, but one he could work with, so that he started to focus a little again.   
  
So they needed photos of the other two Irish, not only because one man asked but because he thought it’d be a good idea in general. And it couldn’t be that hard to come by some in the age of social networks.   
  
So he sat down, opened another tab in his browser – and felt his heart drum in his chest again when he couldn’t remember their names.   
  
Two strings of thoughts started to blend into a blank static noise of panic inside of his head;   
  
they did knew their names, they even knew a few things about them, but even those little things had gotten lost in what _they_ had done to them, those _bastards,_ those _fucking leprechauns,_ out to ruin their reputation.  
  
He remembered his talk with Francesco about them, his analyses and guesses on who they could be, on who they _were_. He was curious himself what he’d find out about them when he looked for pictures.   
  
Suddenly, the static transformed and turned into a stone dropping into his guts.   
  
He should just get the photos or even better, let someone else get the photos while he did other important work to catch them, to do what was urgent and important.   
  
He shouldn’t sit here, with their names forgotten and the want to know _more_ about them than just their names.   
  
He wished he could be as angry as Lovino about it. Again he felt like he wasn’t feeling serious enough about the whole deal, at least not to the extent the others did. He understood why they felt like this, he thought it was reasonable since this was something so exceptional: Michele had suddenly shaken three aces out of his sleeve for this little game and he was winning all along the line, with their security and coordination failing at every corner.   
  
Right now due to himself, who was sitting around idly and guilty instead of doing his work. Worse even, there was still no coordination here either, only a tohubohu of files, open programs and notes.   
  
His fingers shook when he put them onto his face while the thoughts behind them and the world around him slowed down as he spiralled deeper into his self pity festival.   
  
He had taken the task of organisation because planning things was one of the things he actually liked to do with numbers and statistics. How trade and industry worked had always intrigued him, the only field aside from everything creative that had ever piqued his interest.   
  
It really was an exception to his creative mind set and he supposed that it was quite misplaced there.   
  
The understanding of the basics of those organisational things of companies and learning its methods and special tricks was what he was good at. He could immerse himself frantically in evolving strategies for situations, not in the boring task of thinking up an order for turning his vivid ideas into boring tables for hours. Like when he was painting, he just wanted to get it out and see it work. The problem was that painting wasn’t monotonous and boring. It was that he wasn’t liked his boyfriend Ludwig who could do even the most repetitive things quickly and efficient and bring order into even the biggest chaos.   
  
Feliciano was hardly able to decide what the best method for creating a neat overview for his brilliant chaos would be. Of course he could manage it on its own, but he often did receive help by Ludwig or Fabio as well –   
_  
I’m not alone._   
  
The thought struck him and made the needle of the stuck record in his head jump. His fingers ceased to shake when he thought about how Dolcetto and Francesco would be able to quickly bring some order into whatever he planned to do. He didn’t need those organisation geniuses after all, just someone whose mind was detached from his ideas and could think _format_ without being blocked by _content_.   
  
For that he needed to _work_ however. Create content they could get into order. His mind sprung to the map again for Michele’s past and future path through the city, which would allow them to search much more efficient –   
  
Why shouldn’t he make a map about the position of their subordinates? It would grant them a better overview in general and combined with the one about Michele, they could guarantee that when help was urgently needed, it’d arrive as fast as possible.   
  
Just when he wanted to ring up Dolcetto for help, his phone buzzed and jolted him out of his train of thoughts.   
  
But the cogwheels inside of his mind were still turning at top speed when he answered. “Pronto?”   
  
“Feli, is anyone of our men checking the parking block near the Vatican?” Fabio asked at the other end of the line.   
  
Feliciano bowed down to his laptop, hoping they actually had documented who went where someplace. “Uh, lemme look …”   
  
If not, they had to find out for the map. Better even, they should track their people with GPS to make the most accurate map possible. “Where again?”  
  
Fabio didn’t reply and Feliciano noticed the wind in the background.   
  
“Near the Vatican, you said?” Feliciano asked. “There’s  the – “  
  
“Yes.” Feli believed to hear Gabriella’s voice in the background.   
  
“There’s the Termini Giancolo, the -”  
  
“Yes, exactly that one.”   
  
Feliciano looked through another row of names now. “Yeah, we sent Mariani there. Kristin Mariani.”   
  
“Thank you very much. Can you tell her to call me in case she found something?”  
  
“Of course I can! Did you take a work phone with you?”   
  
“No, I’m using my own one. I forgot it in all that hurry – “   
  
“So, you are near the Vatican right now, right?”   
  
“We’re on our way.”   
  
“Could you tell me where you are or better even, send me a position? I want to create an overview about our capacities.”  
  
“I can sure do this.”   
  
“You see, because I want to make it more efficient to use our powers – “ Feliciano stopped his flow of explanation by biting his tongue.  
  
“I see. Well, see you – “   
  
“Wait, just one more thing, I was just reminded” Feliciano interrupted him once more, and felt terrible for it and for keeping Fabio from work. “If you see Michele, please, if possible, take the time and tell me you did so and don’t just storm into it. I only want a short notice, that’s really all.”   
  
“Of course we will” Fabio said. “If not your brother, then either me or Gabriella.”   
  
Feliciano smiled faintly at the answer; as if Fabio had read his thoughts. In reality of course, Fabio just knew the two of them long enough for this.  “Thank you, and good luck!”   
  
“Thank you Feli, good luck to you as well.”  
  
With that Fabio was gone. Feliciano needed a few seconds before he remembered what he had wanted to do before the call. He decided against ringing up Dolcetto but before walked over to his office, he called Mariani.   
  
“Yes?” she answered. She sounded pissed off.   
  
“Signorina Mariani, hello, you’re on the way to the Terminal Giancolo right now, aren’t you?” Feliciano tried his best to sound friendly.   
  
“I’m already there. Why are you asking?” She tacked a “Signore Vargas” on.   
  
“I just wanted to tell you to call Signore Bellini instead of me if you find something. I’ll give you his number, okay?”   
  
“Fine” she spat. _Someone didn’t get out on the right side of bed this morning_ , Feliciano thought.   
  
After he hung up and walked over to Dolcetto’s office, he hoped at least his mood had lighten up some.    
  
There he sat with a more or less straight back and his eyes fixed on the computer. Feliciano thought he looked a little bored or sleepy, but wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just another shade of his resting bitchface.   
  
“Dolco, dearest, I have a task for you” he said to make himself noticed. His smile was only met with a furrow of Dolcetto’s eyebrow. “A little petty task, maybe, but – “  
  
“Fucking great” Dolcetto spit and he didn’t know if it was even directed at him.   
  
“It’s very important and help us a lot, I swear to you.”    
  
Without hesitation: “Then shoot.”  
  
But it hadn’t sound very eager, rather bored or even irritated. So now Feliciano furrowed his brows when his face put on a worried expression: “Are you alright?  
  
“I just got my nose boxed in this morning, a bruised jaw and some other things, nothing big” he spat.   
  
“I know Dolcetto, that’s why I’m – “   
  
“I’m fine.”   
  
“If you need a break – “   
  
“What task Feli!”   
  
Feliciano cringed but collected himself quickly. “I need to know the positions of the people who are out searching right now and it’d be even better if we’d track all of their phones. Also, I'd like a list of the places where we have seen Michele so far, and when we did. All of this is supposed to be made into a live map.”    
  
Dolcetto had listened patiently and had frowned  during the explanation. The frown on his face didn’t go away and since neither did the pissed off look, it seemed he was thinking _why_ _all of this._   
  
If he had, then he decided against asking. “Alright.” His face went back to the screen while started to click and punch something in.    
  
Feliciano might had swallowed his worry, but it wasn’t gone and he couldn’t help but linger on. His look fell onto the plastic wrapping of the painkillers; three pills were missing already.   
  
“I can ask someone else to do it, though” he said. “You see, I am not sure how much your brain can do when you’re pumped with painkillers. Maybe a rest would rather help you than pulling through.”    
  
Dolcetto shot him one upset glare but answered when his eyes were already back on the screen:   
  
“ _I’m fine._ You know what helps me? Finally finding the people who are to blame for it.”   
  
Dolcetto sounded a lot like Lovino again, Feliciano thought.   
  
“Well, alright, if that’s the case…” He managed to flash a smile, but it exhausted him. “I don’t want to bother you any longer, you’re working so hard after all.”   
  
“I’d do anything as long as we catch these assholes who did this to me” he answered. His hand reached for the pills again.   
  
Feliciano had turned around already and stood in the doorframe when he stopped.  His eyes slid to the side but he did not dare to actually turn his head and look at Dolcetto.   
  
The spaced out look on his face would only irritate the other.    
  
He left to Francesco’s office without a word. The thought of what he was about to do had come to him when he saw how much Dolcetto agonized himself to keep on going.   
  
It made him remember how worked up Gabriella was about the loss of the painting. And it made him remember Lovino who had spent the night strung out in his office chair and had not rested in an entire day.   
  
“Hey Franci” he said when he came into the office and Francesco took his earphones off, a faint smile for Feliciano on his face.   
  
“What's up, Feli?” he asked. This time smiling back came natural to Feliciano.   
  
“I just gave Dolcetto another task – well, rather a slightly different one, but I didn't tell him to send the things to you, so I guess you’ll be without work for a while.”  
  
“Oh no, the worst that could happen to a Neapolitan” he said and grinned when Feliciano chuckled.   
  
“Don't worry, I have another task for you, though" he said and Francesco’s lips turned back into a smile.   
  
“Listening.”  
  
“Do you think you could run another background search on the Irish? I know we already did once, but as Fabio said, he didn’t find much. Now that this entire thing has grown into such a big affair, I think we should pay them some more attention.”   
  
Francesco had patiently listened like Dolcetto and just like him, another emotion had crept onto his face as Feliciano explained. His eyes widened in the same time as his lips did, replacing the friendly smile with an excited grin.   
  
His entire face lit up in joy. “Of course I can.”   
  
“Thank you a lot” Feliciano said. “Don’t think you have to rush, even if we could need any new info about them as soon as possible. It’s more important, I think, that we have anything to work with at all.”   
  
“I won’t disappoint you!” Francesco said with a sweeping gesture of his arm and fist. Feliciano’s grin reached from ear to ear as Francesco put his earphones in and fixed his face on the screen.   
  
Once more, Feliciano flitted into the hallway but his steps were a lot lighter this time.   
  
“Hello Marzia!” he greeted the subordinate, who was hurrying along in the same busy fashion he had done before.   
  
She stopped however and answered him friendly: “Hello Signore Vargas, is there something you want from me?”   
  
“Well, yes, how are you doing? How is your work doing?” The sparkle in his eyes made his smirk lose all of his suaveness. It looked silly and happiness seeped out of it.   
  
Her smile barely wavered when she fought a frown for a second. “Both is doing well and going smooth, Signore Vargas.”  
  
“Very good! Keep it up!” he said with a bright smile and patted her on both shoulders before he carried on. He did notice the confused but also amused look she threw him before she walked away.   
  
When he was back in the conference room, he planted himself in the chair, whistled, spun around once and focused on his work again.   
  
Even the boring work of updating the map came naturally to him now that he was motivated. It would help them catch those people who shouldn’t get away scot free for what they’ve done.   
  
He didn’t quite share his brother’s point of view fully, who thought this was the biggest threat ever posed to their business reputation, but he didn’t like how well everything went for their worst enemies and their new unknown friends. And what he disliked the most was how Michele and his friends got away scot-free with leaving them behind worn out and broken.   
  
He had not taken the stolen painting personal and neither had he thought that this case would cast a bad light onto their family, but there was someone out there together with their biggest enemy and hurt his family without ever thinking twice about it.   
  
If stopping them wasn’t the best thing he could have set his wits and energy too, was anything? 

 

* * *

  
„Why do I have to do this thing with the butter?”  
  
“Fuck me if I knew. I think for more air in the dough.”  
  
She stopped and let go of the whisk with enough force that little drops of butter splashed outside of the bowl. “That’s what yeast is for I thought!”   
  
“Not only!”   
  
Sophie threw Maeve a sinister look, but Maeve didn’t bat an eye.   
  
“It’s not rocket science, Soph, don’t break your head over it” she said. “And don’t glare at me, I didn’t write the recipe.”   
  
Soph’s glare was now more furious. “But you still know why I have to do this shit, so tell me why!”   
  
“I don’t. But you don’t have to understand it, simply do it.”  
  
“So it is rocket science!”   
  
“I hope not! I hope the people who shoot others into space _do_ know what they are doing!”   
  
Soph started to laugh at the visual of people just being plummeted into space by a cannon.   
  
This was the happiest she had been while baking, butter arguments aside – or maybe even included. Maeve made her dull work less boring and prevented mistakes by looking over her shoulder. With someone to guide her, she felt more relaxed.   
  
More … stable. Her tiredness was gone and she had no other physical aches anymore, either, so that she could solely focus on her cake disaster. Even better, she was sure it there would not be another one. This day was shaping up to be finally a good one.    
  
The phone rang in the living room and Soph cringed, startled by the noise.   
  
“Would you stir this stuff for me while I look after that?” she asked Maeve. “Because I don’t wanna risk doing this shit all over again!”    
  
“Of course, captain” Maeve said and grinned when she stood up.   
  
Soph hurried into the living room and took her time to glance at the caller ID.   
  
It was Paddy and with a two-edged excitement – both joy and anxiety were filling her – she answered the call.   
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Hello Soph” Paddy said. He didn’t sound overly strained; that lifted some strain off of her. “How are you?”   
  
“I’m fine” she said and it felt nice to mean what she said for once. Her other problems were able to wait right now. “How about you?”   
  
“I’m forced to witness a very chaotic and loud argument in Italian” Paddy said. “But since it’s just our partners arguing about personal things, I’m fine.”   
  
Soph’s emotions were now caught somewhere between curiosity and worry. “Well, if it’s just that … How are Charlie and Harry?”    
  
“They’re fine, just gone for now to take care of a few things.”   
  
The worry swallowed up the healthy curiosity. “Oh, I see.”   
  
“We are all alright, we just had a rather stressful morning so far.”   
  
“Why” Sophie whispered full of dread. She heard Maeve stirring in the kitchen and this ordinary, harmless noise made her feel claustrophobic. Maeve was too close right now by her mere presence in the house and Soph started to head for the stairs to help the feeling at least a bit.   
  
She didn’t want Maeve to hear anything that would make her curious, or even suspicious, and she also didn’t want to let Maeve see her upset again. If Maeve couldn’t even know why she was crying, she shouldn’t have to worry about it at all.  
  
“There were just a few complications today and we’re doing well now. There’s nothing to worry about.”    
  
Paddy’s voice was solid and convincing. Soph still longed to hear Charlie and Harry telling her the same, telling her anything at all.  
_  
Just showing her they were still alive and well.  
_  
She suddenly had a lump in her throat when she swallowed.   
  
“Really?” she asked.   
  
Paddy didn’t reply. Silence sept through the phone and right inside of her. It pressed against her insides, tears threatened to fall and she wanted to throw up to get rid of the lump in her throat.   
  
“Sophie” he finally said and his voice was different this time; like it had gotten cracks. As if he had aged 10 years in these few seconds. “I tell you, there is nothing to be worried about. No, things are not going like they are supposed to. But nothing could happen that should make you worry.”   
  
The pressure inside of her reached new heights, a mix relief and fear, and the gates broke when she hurried the corridor to her room.    
  
Words could not form as she sobbed and hiccupped. Once she was inside of her room, she simply leant against the door.   
  
“Soph … “ Paddy said. She heard a chair being shoved back.    
  
“I … I’m just … I just …” she said. “I’m just afraid that something will happen.”  
  
“There won’t, Soph. There has been nothing but trifles and we’ve got out of all of it without a scratch. I know I can’t hold you right now, but please believe me when I tell you that you don’t need to think about us. Maybe we’ll come back a day later – “   
  
Everything inside of Soph convulsed.   
_  
Oh no, not another day, not one more day I have to be alone with Alby, not another one.  
_  
“No!” She howled like an animal in pain. “Please Paddy, no, not another one, please” she begged.   
  
“Soph? Sophie, what’s wrong!” Soph cringed at the sound of his voice, not only the volume of it. He sounded like her: a caged animal.   
  
Someone knocked at her door and Soph startled. “Soph?” Maeve asked.    
  
She was still leaning against the door when Maeve tried to push it open. She stumbled a few steps forwards and Maeve’s eyes widened, her eyebrows cocked for a moment when she saw Soph.   
  
“I’m sorry! Are you alright?” she asked.   
  
“ _Soph?_ ” Paddy asked.    
  
“I’m” she said but then only shook her head at Maeve and opened one arm to pull the other in a hug. As soon as she returned it, Soph dropped her arm and leant herself against Maeve.    
  
“I’m sorry” she sobbed into the phone.   
  
“You don’t need to be sorry, just tell me what happened.” Soph thought she hadn’t heard Paddy so worried yet, but something was off. This wasn’t worry, this was despair.    
  
The image of Paddy, upset and emotionally worn down like her, made a new set of sobs appearing in her chest. She managed to calm down after a while, only for her effort being undone when she began to speak.    
  
“I didn’t … I … Yesterday, I just … it’s …” She had no idea where she should start and what she wanted to tell him, anyways.    
_  
I haven’t told Harry yet, please don’t tell him either, I have to tell him myself. Don’t worry about me too.  
  
Nothing really happened, I just did something stupid and feel bad. I can handle this on my own.   
_  
“What’s with yesterday?” Paddy asked, but despite the calming tone he tried to offer, she couldn’t answer that question. She didn’t want to answer it, she just wanted to say that _everything is okay, please don’t tell anyone else about it, I’m sorry I made you worry, please don’t think about it, it’s nothing.  
_  
“Soph, what’s it?” Maeve asked.   
  
For a moment, it seemed like her head would eventually burst with thoughts and fragments of them. Then she sighed deeply and the merry go round in her head halted. She pressed the phone against her chest. “I don’t know how I should tell Paddy about Alby.”   
  
“Just tell him from the start –“   
  
She pressed the phone harder against her chest. “No, it’s not about that! I just don’t want that –, I don’t want that he …”   
  
“That he worries? That he thinks you’re overreacting?” Maeve tried to be helpful but right now Soph just wanted to hit her with the phone on the head for not reading her thoughts.   
  
“Not, let me just …” Soph concentrated, but the harder she wanted to sort her thoughts, the more they blurred into nonsense.   
  
Suddenly she remembered that she still clutched the phone against her chest with Paddy waiting for an answer.   
_  
I’ve been wasting so much time for nothing, he can’t wait for me, he has other things to do, they probably need every second, maybe I’m putting them into trouble._  
Her heart drummed in her ears, she held her breath and panic knotted up in her stomach again.   
  
She put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”   
  
“Yes?” She braced herself for her answer; and the merry go round in her head picked up again.   
  
“I’m so sorry for wasting your time.“ Tears pricked at her eyes.   
  
“You didn’t. It’s alright Soph. Tell me now what you wanted to tell.”   
  
Soph burst into tears and Maeve started to caress her back. Suddenly she broke and just started to tell him whatever came to mind. Soon enough, the mess of “Don’t worry about it, though, it’s nothing bad” “Please don’t tell Harry about it, I am going to tell him myself when he comes back” “So, it was yesterday when I – I wanted to collect leaves – anyways – ” gave way for a coherent explanation. It was only interrupted a few times by Paddy asking if _Alby did –_  
  
“Please don’t tell the others about it” she finished. “It’s not as bad as you think it is. It’s not good either, but I’ll get by. I only don’t want to go outside anymore, that’s the only outcome of this story.”   
  
“And that’s not bad?” For one moment, Paddy’s question sounded like an accusation, then the feeling faded and left her confused. Maybe because it didn’t sound like an accusation of _her?_ Suddenly, her comparison of Paddy with the caged animal sprung back to mind. When it first had been there, the animal been frightened. Now it was _angry._  
  
“I’m just saying that it’s harmless” Soph said but thought to herself that she sounded weak, her voice thin. She didn’t know if she would be able to answer from now on without her voice turning squeaky again.   
  
There was only silence on the other end however, occasionally cut through by one of Paddy’s heavy sighs. “Are you going to be alright until we are back?” he finally asked.  
  
She managed to stay calm. “I will. Maeve already said she’d stay with me if I need help.”    
  
“That’s good. That’s nice of her.” Paddy tried, but couldn’t hide the strain behind his words.   
  
“She’s helping me a lot. Since she’s been here, I feel well. I _am_ well.”   
  
She leant against Maeve before a thought shot through her head like a bullet:   
_  
You aren’t well._   
  
Now she felt caged again by Maeve’s presence as she worried about what the other reasons for Paddy’s strain could be. She wanted to be able to ask him about it or if she burst into another set of tears, she at least wanted to do it safely. The risk that Maeve something suspicious between Soph’s sobs that she had never been supposed to know was too high.    
  
“I’ll have to trust you, Soph, and I am not going to tell the others”, Paddy said, “but I am really pissed off right now. This Alby better has the spine face some hell and high water.”   
  
Just now she realized that Paddy had believed her. He hadn’t been shocked at what _she_ had done, let alone admonished her for being so rude to Alby. Like Maeve, he put all the blame on Alby.   
  
While all of this let her feel very safe and happy, there was one thing about Paddy’s statement that made her uncomfortable. She knew that her family loved her dearly, which was the reason they became upset about things that upset her. Yet in the end, it was still her problem, and they should help her with it, not solve it on her behalf.   
  
“We’re going to tell him off together, okay?” Soph asked. “I’ll tell Harry first and then we’ll see what we do but I have to be the one to tell Alby. He was an asshole to _me_ after all.”   
  
“Of course Soph, I won’t just yell at him when I see him. We just want what’s best for you and if you decide it’s best to let it rest, we’ll let it rest even when we don’t like it. We only want you happy.”    
  
“I know” she said. “I know.” For a brief moment she was overwhelmed by all the love her family felt for her and how much she loved them in return before she decided she had no time for another emotional fit.   
  
“We’ll see what we do when you come back. Maybe by then the entire thing will have sorted itself out.” She held the phone a little away and looked at Maeve. “Did you finish stirring the stuff by the way?” she asked her.   
  
Maeve shrugged and shook her head. “I have no idea. I thought of using a mixer, do you think that’ll work?”   
  
“It’s worth a try.”   
  
“Then I’ll try it” Maeve said. “You’re okay?”  
  
Soph nodded, so Maeve stood up and left without another word. The unenthusiastic diligence of it made Soph wonder what her classmates and her few friends thought of her secretiveness and if it’d become unbearable for them one day. Harry’s last girlfriend had left when she couldn’t stand it anymore, to not question anything at all, since every question would have no answer and endanger the domestic bliss.   
  
“Don’t think much anymore about me, okay? You’ll fight on and I’ll fight on. We are both not alone” she then said to Paddy.    
  
“You’re such a brave and grown up girl, Soph. You and your friend are doing so well with this.” He sighed deeply. “Alright. You’re okay then? Answer me honestly Soph.”   
  
She remembered how good she had felt before Paddy had called, how everything aside from Alby finally seemed to go well.   
  
“I was a bit down because I couldn’t bake muffins which I need for school, but now Maeve’s helping so I’m cool.”    
  
“That's good to hear.”  
  
She smiled. “Don't worry about me.”    
  
“I’ll try, Soph. If you try to not worry about us, I’ll try. I think I have to go now. Stay safe and remember that we love you, alright?” No matter how hard he had tried, Soph had been able to hear the exhaustion in his voice, the tension in his jaw. There was nothing of both however in the “alright?”, only a smile so comforting and bright she could practically see his face in front of her.    
  
“You stay safe and remember that I love you, too” she said.   
  
After he hung up, she was left with a kind of melancholy feeling in her chest. She kept sitting on her bed for a few more minutes and hung onto thoughts to find out if she had to cry or not and to dwell on the bittersweet sting of missing her family.   
  
Eventually she went downstairs again, put the phone away and walked into the kitchen. “Are you feeling okay?” Maeve asked.   
  
“Yeah” she said.   
  
“Why were you even crying? If I’m allowed to ask.”   
_  
Secretivness_ she thought, again accompanied by the dreaded feeling of emotional claustrophobia.   
  
“Paddy just told me there were complications with their flight and they'd very probably come home a day later than planned. And I just missed them terrible. And the thing with Alby …”   
  
“I fully understand” Maeve said in this wonderfully calming tone between empathetic and yet matter-of-fact. “And I think it was good that you told Paddy. Even when they can’t jump to your help this very second, they should know about it. People don’t have to be physically there to help, you know. And when they still can’t help, they either would have worried when they come back and find a nervous mess of a Soph or they worry now. In both cases you can help them calm down and I’m sure you did exactly that with your explanation.”    
  
“I hope so” Soph said. “Paddy said it is very nice of you to stay here with me and also that we are doing so well with the entire situation.” _And that I’m a brave and grown up girl._  
  
Maeve smiled as if she was honoured by that message. “We probably are” she said. “Honestly Soph, I can't say if I had reacted the same if I had been in your place, but I still firmly believe that you did the right thing and I’ll stand up for you, no matter what this idiot does.”    
_  
I did the right thing, he can’t make me believe I didn’t._  
  
She hugged Maeve from behind and closed her eyes with a smile. “Thank you.”   
  
“No need to thank me” Maeve said. “Friend's got each other's back. And now you take care of this bloody butter again, this is your cake and _you_ ’ll figure out what the fuck we’re doing wrong for it to take ages, god damn it!”

 

* * *

  
The traffic was coming along like it always did in this city around this time of the year. Despite it being a Sunday forenoon, the small streets were crowded. Rome’s attractions of the city were abandoned and the countless churches they passed probably half empty. Like the Pantheon, which Lovino had thrown a dirty look when they passed it. Fabio had gripped the wheel tighter and Gabriella had crossed her arms after she had glanced outside.   
  
Both had relaxed again by now, Fabio still behind the wheel and Gabriella riding shotgun. He seemed concentrated, she mentally miles away.   
  
Lovino’s reaction however had been exemplary for his general mood this morning, up to now. He sat on the backseat with no seatbelt on, crossed arms, spread legs and a glower on his face.   
  
“How much longer is it going to take?” he asked.   
  
“We should reach it soon.” Fabio said. “But today, things aren’t going like they should.”  
  
“Oh, you don't say” Lovino said. “You know,” he leant forwards between the seats,“I can't actually believe _how_ bad this is all going for us.” His tone dripped of biting sarcasm and self-depreciation. “Like, who did I piss off up there that everything I touch right now goes wrong? Maybe we should hit the brakes in front of the next church and pray for help.”  
  
Fabio sighed. “I don’t think that crawling on our knees will help, Lovino.”    
  
“Rather crawling on my knees in front of God before I do it in front of Michele because that bastard thinks he can even rob me of my dignity.”   
  
Fabio sighed again, heavier this time.   
  
Gabriella clasped her hands. “I don’t think that God hates us so much he’d let it come down to this.”   
  
Lovino leant back again but before he hit the backrest, the brakes screeched and he was catapulted forwards.   
  
“Fabio, what was that?!” he cursed and voluntarily pulled himself forth again after he impact had thrown him into his seat. Cars behind them honked while a thin black and white cat crossed the street in front of them.   
  
Still accompanied by the honking fest, Fabio started again.   
  
“There was a cat” he unperturbedly answered Lovino's question. Lovino gave him a baffled look.   
  
Gabriella chuckled. “Does your affection for cats have anything to do with that you wanted to become a fireman?”  
  
“I just spared a live that has nothing to do with affection …” he sulked before he spoke up. “And no, but I'd have been great at saving them from trees.” He smiled faintly.   
  
“And at keeping them all afterwards” Gabriella said with a grin and shook her head.   
  
“The stray cats, alright? I wouldn’t have robbed anyone of their cat.” He shot her a short look and tried to be serious but the corners of his mouth pulled slightly upwards.   
  
Lovino decided to leave it at that and sat back again.   
  
“Put your seatbelt on, Lovi” Gabriella said.   
  
“It’d only constrain me” he said. “I have to be able to act fast.”   
  
“If you break your neck, you’re not going to do anything fast anymore in your life, Lovino.”   
  
He swallowed his _Got up with the wrong foot?_ and fastened his seatbelt.   
  
They all had gotten up with the wrong foot. His unfair remark about Gabriella, who was right and worried about him as always, was proof enough.   
  
By the time they had reached the next traffic light, Fabio rubbed his temples and honked a few times himself as no one in front of him drove on.   
  
“Still going to be there soon?” Lovino asked.   
  
“Yes” Fabio buzzed morosely.   
  
“Park in that side street over there, we are going to walk the rest. It makes no difference if we’re wasting our time walking or driving and then looking for a place where one of us can park.”   
  
The traffic light turned green. Fabio drove slowly and earnt several honks behind him for it.   
  
“I want you to know that thus we don't have a car right at our hands” he said. “But screw it.” The speed picked up, he turned into the side street and planted himself between the other cars and scooters along the sidewalk.   
  
Lovino tried to unfasten his seatbelt the second they turned but being thrown around to several sides within mere seconds made it surprisingly hard to hit the button.   
  
Once they had come to a halt however, he jumped out. The other two followed and Lovino wasn’t the only one who apparently immediately felt a chill run down his spine.   
  
Gabriella pulled her shoulders up to her neck when she stepped out. The sun may shone but it was still late October.   
  
“Which way now?” he asked Fabio, who already took out his phone out while he was walking around the car. He answered without even glancing at it:  
  
“First back to the main street and the left.”   
  
After this, Fabio gave his phone most of his attention while they were heading to their destination.   
  
By now, every train station in Rome was supervised and while there had been some alleged sightings at the termini, none of them had been near the tracks. They even were sending people out to the airports right now and none of those who had already arrived found any trace of the Sicilians or the Irish.   
  
So it was highly likely that they were still in the city and checking parking blocks was a useful task to do. Lovino was sick of wasting time for nothing.  
  
The sidewalks weren’t as crowded as the streets, but they still had to share it with enough people to hinder them. When Lovino skipped past and between them, he was reminded of the times of his Vespa with which he had also simply driven on the sidewalk to avoid the usual tiny traffic jams of the city.   
  
Gabriella and Fabio tried their best to keep pace with him but Fabio was still looking on his phone and apparently Gabriella didn’t want to leave him behind like Lovino did. Only when the street in front of Lovino split, they gathered together again.   
  
“One second” Fabio said as soon as he reached them. “Give me one second for me to memorize the way, then I don't need to look at my phone at all.”   
  
Lovino furrowed his eyebrows but gave in with an “Alright.”  
  
While Fabio was busy with his phone, Lovino scanned the area around them and noticed Gabriella doing the same when their looks almost met.   
  
“Let’s go” Fabio said.   
  
“Which way?” Lovino asked promptly.  
  
Fabio took a step as he said: “Straight ahead again.”   
  
Lovino did the same and crossed the street without a second thought to the car that bumped almost into him. In this country, after all, no driver would stop for you. If you wanted to cross a street, you simply had to do it and you had to do it with enough confidence in your strides. This way, you'd end up on the other side of the street without a single scratch.   
  
Now that they all walked together, Lovino couldn’t help but look after them from time to time.   
  
“Are you alright, Rella?” he asked her after she continuously shook herself and pulled her shoulders up.   
  
“I’m a little cold” she said.   
  
“Can I offer you my scarf then?” Fabio said. “Again.” She looked at him while they still merrily walked on. “I can just pull up the sides of my trench coat, I’ll be fine.”   
  
“Okay, I’ll take it” she said and he started to unwrap his scarf.   
  
“Might not look like much but it keeps warm” he said as he handed it to her.   
  
“It’s a wool scarf, isn’t it?” Gabriella replied and wrapped it around her own neck. “Those are the best at keeping one warm.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”   
  
“You’re welcome.” There was barely a pause before he added: “Be careful though, it’s my stadium scarf.”   
  
“Why are you casually wearing your stadium scarf?” Lovino asked. “And why in the everloving hell are you giving it to someone else? These things always smell _terrible_.”  
  
Gabriella put her nose into the scarf and sniffed. “Not that bad” she said. “I think it just smells a lot like Fabio.”  
  
“How do you know how Fabio smells?” Lovino asked with a grin before the street split again.   
  
“Left” Fabio said and Lovino turned into the street left of them. It was overcast by the shadows of the surrounding houses and now he regretted that he hadn’t took a scarf with him as well.   
  
“Do we have any news from the others?” he asked.   
  
“Nothing, if something had happened, we would have told you” Gabriella said.   
  
Lovino hunched his shoulders and mumbled into the collar of his jacket: “Fucking son of a bitch makes me run through my own city freezing my balls off as if I’m that desperate for his sorry ass.”   
  
“We should be there soon” Fabio said and Lovino felt his face heat up while he wondered if he had really talked so loud after all.   
  
“I hope it’s worth it” he said. “Did we already someone to the thing we’re checking now?”  
  
Only the sound of their steps came back to Lovino.   
  
“I’ll ask Feli” Fabio finally said and pulled his phone out. Fabio was talking to Feliciano when the street ended in another one in front of them, but Lovino believed he could see their goal already.  
  
“Isn’t that the block?” he asked and pointed towards a big building with “Termini Giancolo” printed on its front – in the same moment as Gabriella repeated the name to Fabio.   
  
“That’s answer enough for me” he said to himself and looked around.   
  
It wouldn’t be very clever, downright idiotic, if they simply walked inside and searched the entire building, especially if they might already sent someone to do the job. It’d make much more sense to find a spot to watch the building’s entrance and surroundings for a while to see if they saw anything suspicious.   
  
Luckily, there was a trattoria right across the parking block’s entry and exit for both people and cars.   
  
“Let’s see if we can get to the second floor from there” Lovino said, gesturing towards the trattoria, and started walking. Only seconds later he realized he should have asked what the outcome of the phone call was.  
  
Lovino turned around to look at him and opened his mouth at the same time as Fabio  
“Feli said Kristin Mariani was sent to check the Terminal” Fabio said.   
  
“Nothing more?”  
  
Fabio waited for a second before he shook his head: “No further information or results, no.”   
  
“Well then, let’s carry on” Lovino said and entered.  
  
The second he opened the door, a wave of noise hit him. The trattoria was small but packed, which spoke in its favour. People were ordering coffee, ate breakfast at the bar tables and watched news, sports or the end of this Sunday’s mass on one of the TV screens hanging on the walls.   
  
Lovino shook every trace of his bad mood and weariness out of his body, put a bright smile on and stretched himself. Being able to lie had always been one of the most important things in his profession, yet the ease with which he changed had you thinking that he was an actor manqué.   
  
“Excuse me?” he asked with the charming smile on his face and in a voice to fit it. He was standing straight, his arm raised and the combination of it all radiated confidence and created this attitude with which you could yell loud enough to drown everyone else out and people still though you sounded civil. This smug attitude that screamed asshole to anyone who had encountered someone with it before and had spent more than a few minutes with them. In most cases, however, it was your recipe for getting anything you wanted.   
  
As it was today since Lovino only had to take one step and the people around the counter were making space for him. He leant in to the man who served behind it. ”Excuse me, but how can you reach the floor above this nice little trattoria? I didn’t see a staircase or anything, but I’d need to go upstairs.”   
  
The man only looked at him sceptical. “Why would you want to do that?”  
  
“It’s kind of urgent, you see?” Lovino answered. “I have a business.“  
  
“You don’t got any business up there, my friend” he replied. “If you had, then you’d know there are only flats up there and then you’d also know you can’t get to them through this shop.” He turned away to serve someone.  
  
Lovino sacrificed a few seconds to think in order to stay calm. “I only knew that someone I need to see lives here, but nothing more than that, so please just tell me how to get to them.”   
  
“And why didn’t you say that from the start?” Lovino waited for an answer and when he realized he wasn’t going to get one, he felt a surge of anger rising up from his stomach.   
  
“Because I don’t have much time and thought _no one_  would raise hell over a question this simple!”  
  
“Oi youngster, don’t you have some manners?!” someone asked but Lovino's attention was quickly caught again by the man behind the counter:   
  
“Just who do you think you are, man?” He sounded slightly pissed off now and Lovino quickly leant in to him.   
  
“Vargas the name, ever heard of it? So how I can I get to those flats above you now!”   
The man looked at him unsure and Lovino was afraid he wasn’t a local, but around him, the mumbling rose.   
  
“There's any alley behind that house where you find the door” the man finally said. And turned away to do his job.   
  
“Thank you Signore” Lovino said with a smile again. “Have a nice day.” He turned around to leave and Fabio and Gabriella silently trailed after him, just how they had silently flanked him before.   
  
“So that’s how they look nowadays, aha” Lovino heard someone mutter before he stepped outside.   
_  
Yes that is how we fucking look nowadays, asshole_ he thought to himself but kept his jaw locked and walked on.   
  
Once they turned around the corner, they found the small alley he had spoken off. Halfway down it, two steps led up to a front door and Lovino only threw a short look at the name plates before he rang the first one.   
  
They waited for a while before a buzzing sound came from the doorframe and Lovino was able to opened the door and stepped into the dark hallway. Guessing from its outside, the house itself was probably around a hundred years old – not new, not old – and inside it showed that all those years had worn it out. The trattoria might have been neat and tidy and Lovino had seen far more shabby residences, but this one wasn’t looking very welcoming either.   
  
A few bikes stood next to the stairs and from the wall to their left came typical kitchen noises as well as busy chatter and steps. The floor was tiled in some boring, dirty white and black shade. Some tiles were cracked already, the ones of the stairs were ground down to the stone in some places.   
  
“Hello?” someone asked – the voice of a young woman, _very good_ Lovino thought – and footsteps from above came closer.   
  
“Hello?” he answered back, the same kind of curiosity and precaution in his voice that had been in hers. He wasn’t aware if he mimicked it or _felt_ curious and nervous.   
  
The footsteps slowed but he ended up seeing a woman his age peeking downstairs over the railing. Her black hair swung forth, the eyes behind her glasses were wide open and her jogging suit jacket was zipped up to the chin.   
  
“Hello!” Lovino said again and put his brightest smile on. “Excuse this interruption, but we are in dire need of some help. Someone asked us to keep an eye on a friend of theirs who hasn’t been that well acquainted with the city yet and they told us to make sure that their friend is taking the right route. So we thought we pick one spot where they’re supposed to come across to check on them, however, it’d be so easy to miss them when there are so many cars passing for only seconds. So we’d like to ask you if you could lend us your window for a few minutes, Signorina. You are living on the second floor, aren’t you?”  
  
“Yeah, I am” she said slowly, probably still progressing the story. Her look shifted between them, seemed to consider the looks of the three and Fabio and Gabriella made a visible effort to look normal this time. Unlike they had in the trattoria. There it had been full, they had to look out for Lovino and a pressing request was always delivered better with two threateningly calm people at your side.   
  
“Are you sure she’s going to be fine?” Gabriella asked Fabio, who only shrugged.   
  
“It can’t be that complicated with the right instructions.”   
  
“We should still check” Lovino said to them before he looked back at the woman.   
  
She still stared at them and put a streak of hair behind her ear before she said: “Sure. Follow me.”  
  
“Thank you so much, Signorina” Lovino said and followed her. On the way up, he struggled to remember her name from the name plate.   
  
Once they reached a second floor, a doorframe led to another corridor. Three doors lined up along its wall, painted green and rather plain looking. They still seemed safer and more stable than the apartment doors in some other places but Lovino knew that if he had wanted to get in, he would have managed it.   
  
But breaking into a flat for absolutely nothing? He was civilised. And Michele would not leave him to resort to choices like _this._ There was still a shred of dignity left in Lovino that the Sicilian devil hadn’t stolen.  
  
She headed for the door in the middle and pushed it open. What was likely the living room wasn’t very messy nor very clean and furnished with IKEA and the like. She pointed towards a window across from the door. “You can see pretty much of the street from that one” she said when Fabio’s phone rang.   
  
“Thank you again, we won't bother you for long” Lovino said with a smile again. When he crossed the room together with Gabriella, heavy footsteps came from another room.   
  
They all looked in surprise at the fat cat walking into the living room and Fabio was able to keep his composure maybe only because he was concentrating on the call. “Bellini” he answered the phone.  
  
Gabriella looked at the cat for a little longer before she joined Lovino at the window.   
  
“Did you want to check?” the woman asked her cat. “Are you curious what’s going on here, Bacio?”  
  
Fabio glanced at the woman but unlike Gabriella and Lovino, didn’t smile. "Signorina Mariani? Kristin?” he asked into the phone.   
  
“Bacio” Gabriella said. “That’s his name?”  
  
Fabio cringed shortly and listened for another second. He hung up.  
  
The woman smiled sheepishly. “It's not my name, I got him from a shelter. But yes, he’s called Bacio.”  
  
Now even Fabio’s professional demeanour broke. He bent down a little, his hands clasped at his knees. “Awww, what a little hearty kiss! Bacio, come here.” He shortly looked up at the woman. “Can I pet him?”  
  
She seemed to realize again that she just let strangers into her flat who wanted to look out of her window for some fishy reason and pet her cat; considering that, she took it surprisingly calm. “Sure. If he let’s you but he generally is a very cuddly person.”   
  
“And Fabio is very good with cats” Gabriella said while Fabio petted the cat. “It's a mystery why he doesn't have one on his own.”   
  
Lovino rested his elbow on the window frame and cursed himself for not having a pair of binoculars.   
  
“Maybe some day, when life isn’t so busy” Fabio said. “If I could only split myself in two. Or had a helping hand, anything, to give the cat the attention it deserves, I’d already have one. But as of right now, I can’t ensure I’ll give a cat the best life it could ever live.”  
  
Gabriella looked at him with a smile and only stopped when he had straightened himself and their eyes met. Fabio walked over to them and squeezed himself next to Lovino at the window.   
  
“Mariani just called” he said quietly. “Only told me it's her before there was a loud noise and the connection cut off. There was a kind of echo around her and I think loud footsteps during the call.”  
  
Lovino took his hand from his mouth and quickly turned to him instead of looking at him from the corner of his eyes. He felt how his heart slowly picked up its pace and his hands turned colder than they had been anyways. “What do you think that means for us?”   
  
“I don’t know” Fabio answered. “Let’s wait if she calls again. We have no idea if she has been at the block yet when she called me, so I don’t know if we should rush into it. Let’s give her five minutes to call back before we do anything.”  
  
Lovino sighed but replied nothing. After five minutes that had been split between watching the terminal and pulling his sleeve back to stare at his watch, there still had been no sign of any troublemaking Sicilians or Irish nor another call from Mariani. Lovino pulled his sleeve back up again and pushed himself away from the window.   
  
“Seems like she has taken a wrong turn” he said, loud enough for the woman to hear him. “Thank you a lot for your willingness to help, Signorina.”   
  
“Sure, no big deal” she said. “I hope your friend finds their way, though.”   
  
“So do we” Lovino said. His thoughts revolved about Mariani’s phone call.   
  
“Thank you again” Gabriella said before she left the flat. “I hope we didn't bother you too much.”  
  
“I’ve had crazier things happen to me in this city” she said. “And I’m not stupid you know. I told a friend about all of this and if you had tried to rob me, he’d known and called the police.”   
  
All of their eyes widened in surprise but it was a short lived moment.   
  
“That is indeed a very clever thing to do, Signorina” Lovino said honestly. They bid their final farewells, not without Fabio saying goodbye to the cat especially. Their steps echoed loudly on the way down, the temperature dropped.    
  
“If she hadn’t been already at the terminal when she called you, we should have seen her, shouldn’t we. How she entered the building” Lovino said. “Unless something happened on the way.”   
  
“If there weren’t any other entrances than those we saw, then yes” Fabio said. “It's a good point.”   
_  
Unless something happened_ Lovino thought. He didn’t like the thought itself, much less the ones that followed it.   
  
“Fabio, what were the noises again you heard before she hung up?” Gabriella asked.   
  
“I can’t really tell because the echo might have falsified what actually happened. But I heard footsteps and some noises might have been a person other than her shouting.”   
  
Lovino sighed and approached the terminal with dread in his guts and yet also felt a strange eagerness, a morbid curiosity. There was this hope that Mariani’s strange call meant that they were finally about to find these felonies. A car was just leaving the building and slowly drove past right beside them.  
  
A yellow Porsche and even when Lovino hadn’t paid any attention to it, he could guess that it wouldn’t have an Italian license plate. No one in Italy drove with their wheel on the goddamn wrong side. He even dared to say that it had the letters “IR” printed under the EU symbol.   
  
“Did you see what I saw?” Fabio asked in disbelief.   
  
“Well I most definitely saw _O’Connel shrinking into his seat!_ ” Lovino screamed.


	17. Drifting Further

Michele stared at the stairs as Harry and Charlie disappeared out of sight. His look lingered on until he couldn’t hear their steps and voices anymore.  
  
He turned his head to the window. After a second, he spaced out again. Immersed in thoughts, he seemed to have forgotten his surroundings.   
  
“So...” Paddy said and brought him back to the here and now.   
  
Michele lifted his shoulders, turned around and slid back into his old place. “So indeed”, he said. “Now that those two are taking care of one car, we should take care of ours.” He looked at the twins. “Who of you is coming with me and who of you waits here for Harry and Charlie?”  
  
Lorenzo and Marco exchanged looks.   
  
Not _a_ look. Not the same or a slightly different expression on each other’s faces, unlike all the other times they silently communicated like this.   
  
Lorenzo looked sullen, Marco more visibly irked: His eyebrows were more furrowed than Lorenzo’s, his jaw tensed while the corners of Lorenzo’s mouth were droop.   
  
Seconds went by and none of their expressions changed. This was not a conversation in body language, only two people holding monologues.   
  
“I think _I_ better join Harry and Charlie – “ Marco finally said and hell broke loose.   
  
“Oh, of course _you_ better go with them! But not because it’d be better for the job, because it’d be better for you, right?!” Lorenzo yelled in Italian. 

Michele cringed and stared baffled at them. Paddy jerked backwards so hard the lean of his chair creaked. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Marco yelled back. 

“What's wrong with me?!”,Lorenzo leant in to him. ”You're asking what's wrong with me, when you just give that son of a bitch a second chance in the blink of an eye?!”

“I told you _he apologised_!”

“I say that was _lip service_ and that’s it! After the bullshit of last night, he should have tried a little harder than a simple ‘Sorry’!” 

“What’s not good enough about apologising?! Should he atone for what he did or what?!” 

“He shouldn’t get away this easily with what he’s done, now he’s just continuing to play games with you!” It was astonishing that the twins hadn’t slapped each other yet with all the energetic gestures to stress their words. 

“Ever thought that he never played any games in first place?! Ever thought about how _he really just has a crush on me?!_ ” 

“And he has a crush on me and probably every man he exchanges more than two words with! If he’d care about you, he’d stop flirting around!” 

Marco didn’t reply immediately and a look of unease flickered across his face. 

In turn, Lorenzo’s expression softened up as well. “I told you Marco, that’s how he is – “

“Oh shut up! You don’t know shit about him! I’m the one who spend hours with him, who talked to him, who _got to know him_ – while you were too busy being an asshole about him!” Marco spat, every bit as angry as he had been before. 

“For good reasons, or do you wanna say that last night proved me wrong?!”

“Boys!” Michele tried to interrupt them, but they were too far gone to hear him. 

“He could have done anything, he could have dropped to his knees in front of me with a spray of roses and you would have found something wrong with it! Because you are nothing but a salty motherfucker!” 

“ _I’m_ salty for telling you how it is?!” 

Their faces were only centimetres now and they looked like they’d jump at each other’s throat any second. “You’re salty for ruining things you shouldn’t poke your nose in in first place!”

“What is going on here?!” Paddy was finally able to make the twins snap out of it for a moment. 

Michele seized the opportunity and after quickly telling him “Personal issues!” addressed the twins: “You two stop right here and now and tell me what this is all about!”

Marco pointed at Lorenzo. “I don't know, Michele! I didn't start it, Lorenzo’s the one who had something crawl up his ass and die!”

“I don't, Marco’s just being a dumb slut!” 

“I told you two to stop!” Michele said. 

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Paddy staring at him. There was no curiosity in his features, only suspicion. It made him grit his teeth a little harder; thoughts he couldn’t catch – 

_Would you stop giving me these looks for everything I do and say!  
_

_–_ rushed through his head and he concentrated his attention on the twins. “What’s the problem here? Talk _one_ at a time!”

“Lorenzo thinks I shouldn't –“ 

“Michele, he's behaving completely irrational – “

“ _One at a time I said!”_ Michele rebuked them. “First, we have little time, second we are drawing attention if you two keep yelling on top of each other and third, I can’t offer any advice if I don't have a clue what's going on! Marco, what shouldn't you do?” 

“Lorenzo thinks it’s wrong that I like Charlie!”

“Of course it is when he treats you like dirt!”

“He didn’t! He always treated me like a friend, like a normal person, unlike you who treated him like he’s the worst jerk to walk this earth!”

“Stop I said!” Michele hissed through grit teeth. Drops of spit hit the table.

He noticed it and grabbed one of the napkins from the middle of the table to wipe them away. 

“Michele,” Lorenzo and Marco said in unison, hints of concern in both their voices and their faces, but Michele just sighed heavily. 

Before he could say anything however, Paddy caught his attention. “We are all alright, we just had a rather stressful morning so far.”

His confusion was promptly cleared up when he looked at him and saw the phone in his hand. Michele didn’t know for how long the call had been going on without him noticing it. 

Just when he was asking himself with who Paddy was talking, he remembered he had his own things to worry about. 

“My nerves are really strained right now, I’m sorry,” he said after he faced the twins again. “That's why it’s important that you two work with me, because otherwise I won't be able to help you.” He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance and pointed at them. “And your asses are going to be helped, if you want to or not, because I'm not having any more of this childish bitching at each other!”

Lorenzo and Marco threw a peeved look at Michele and a cross one at each other. 

_At least they act in sync again_ , Michele thought, but it was cynical and only made him feel disgruntled. 

“Okay, where did we leave off”, he asked, himself rather than the twins. “Right. Lorenzo, why do you think Charlie treats Marco like dirt?”

“Because Charlie’s an annoying douchebag, who's just playing games” Lorenzo answered. 

“Alright”, Michele started but couldn’t finish his sentence. Paddy distracted him when he got up and walked a few steps across the room. 

Some part of him was irritated by this, but the feeling died on the spot when Marco went off. 

“Alright?! Michele, don’t tell me – You _can’t_ believe Lorenzo!”

“I wasn’t finished, calm down, Marco”, Michele hushed him but the hurt look on his face merely faded. “Because you’re right, I don’t agree with Lorenzo.” He faced Lorenzo.

“What do you mean by playing games?”

Marco had a pleased grin on his face, which intensified Lorenzo’s frown. 

“He flirts around with everyone, you can’t tell me he really means any of the nice words he says. Hey, you said he even flirted with Francesco!”

Marco rolled his eyes, while Michele pressed his lips onto each other and forcefully rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand. 

“He did compliment him,” he eventually said and scowled at the twins as he carried on: “But you two gushed about him as well and have already done so in the past. So in this particular case I’d say ‘when in doubt, for the accused’, Lorenzo.” His expression softened again. “I don’t see how he’s playing games with Marco when he flirts with people other than him. Charlie likes to dish out compliments and maybe grabs a little attention; that changes nothing about his relationship with Marco. Their friendship consists of more than flirts, am I right?” His look shifted to Marco, who grinned again. 

“Of course it does”, he said, right into his brother’s face. 

Lorenzo seemed to tense every single muscle of his body and his shoulders just hunched when he turned to Michele with a swift but flowing motion. 

“Well Michele, but you haven’t seen what happened last night! Charlie – “

“Charlie made an ass of himself?” Michele asked and the grin was wiped off Marco’s face, instead he arched his eyebrows and nervously looked away.

Now Lorenzo looked all the more triumphant. 

“Yes! He –“

“He got drunk, had a talk with Marco and said some very rude and hurtful things instead of just confessing his feelings to him,” Michele said and now both of the twins stared at him with eyes wide open. “That’s what I know at least. He knocked on our door last night, completely upset and told us about it. Then spent the night completely wasted on our couch.” Michele gazed into space for a moment, before he focused on the twins again. “But before he drowned another half a bottle of wine and fell asleep, he was well aware that he was the only one who fucked up and he was set on apologising to you, Marco. _But_ ,” Michele lifted a hand,” I only heard his perspective of the story. Tell me about yours.” 

“Well –“ Lorenzo began but Michele shot him a glance. 

“It’s not your turn yet, Lorenzo.”

“I don’t know.” Marco shook his head. “I remember that he was really emotional and his moods skipped back and forth. I can’t give you any details – “

“Can you remember what he said that upset you?”

“Of course. After he said that he liked me, he asked me why I wasn’t ‘picking up the hints’. As if I’m the reason he was heartbroken and like I should have made the first step.” 

Michele sighed deeply but the twins spoke before he could: 

Lorenzo: “See Michele, he’s playing games– “ 

Marco: “But once I called him out on it, he apologised – “

They faced each other: “Oh come on!” 

“Boys!” They looked at him, but their teeth stayed bared. “Lorenzo, I told you it’s not your turn yet.” 

“Marco was done talking!”

“I wasn’t!” 

“Both of you shut up now!” Michele hissed. He took a deep breath. He started to pick at the skin at the back of his hand. “Now I know what he meant by guilt tripping you. And he apologised for it when you called him out on it?”

“Yes. And he apologised for it again this morning – “

Michele’s eyes widened a little. “Wait, so he already did last night?” 

“Yes, he said he was sorry and that he fucked up – “

“Oh, and you really think he meant that when he said it while he made a drunk scene in front of our door?” Lorenzo asked and Marco spun around to him. 

“What counts is that he meant it this morning when he was sober!” 

“That’s a very good point!” Michele interrupted them. “You didn’t have to ask him to apologise either, did you?”

“No! He asked if we could talk about it and when we were downstairs, brought it up again by himself, too.”

“Then I am going to dare and say, too, that he really meant it this time” Michele said and smiled at Marco. Marco returned it with the twice the intensity. 

Lorenzo stared at his brother. He was propped up on the table with one elbow, and his face was relaxed – had it not been for the compressed lips. 

“You also think he means it when he says that he likes you for your personality and that you’re special to him, don’t you?” he said

“Who said he doesn’t mean it?!”

“It’s obvious! How can he like your personality when he can’t even tell the two of us apart by it!” 

“He can!”

“By looks!” Lorenzo held his fingers in front of Marco’s face. “That’s how he found out who answered the door last night! Not because he _knows us_ , but because that creep found out that our hands look different!” 

“What?” Michele asked when Marco didn’t immediately answer Lorenzo. 

Lorenzo turned to him and stretched his hand out towards him: “I answered the door last night when Charlie wanted to talk to Marco and asked to see my hands to make sure it was really me and not Marco!” 

“Even if he did last night, he was completely plastered!” Marco said. “And besides, why should he then have chosen me over you if he just wanted to fuck one of us! Because those puny scars on your hands are so disfiguring it’s a turn off?!” 

“I told you already, it’s because you are playing into his hands! Because you’re the nice one, because to him you were easier to get!”

“Ever fucking thought about how I’m nice to him because I actually fucking like him?!”

“You can’t tell me you really like this jackass!”

“No, I couldn’t! Because when I showed as much as a shred of sympathy, you’d remind me that he’s a bastard I should not waste my time with!”

“Because he is! Marco, you deserve better!”

“How do _you_ know who he is when you barely exchanged a single word with him that wasn’t an insult or telling him to fuck off! You don’t know shit, you have no idea about Charlie and me, but always dish out your bias without being asked! You know, fuck you and your opinion this time! I don't give a shit what you think!”

Lorenzo flinched and stared at his brother. Baffled. Enraged. _Hurt_.  

“You two keep forgetting that disagreeing with each other is a completely valid thing to do, even in a relationship like yours,” Michele said. His chin was cupped in his hand. “If you would keep that in mind, we would avoid these kind of arguments.”  He rubbed his eyes. “But at least now I know what the root of this evil is. Lorenzo, I know you don’t like Charlie – “

“I’d really like to know why Marco does, though!” he interrupted him. 

“You never gave a rat’s arse about it before!”

“Let me finish!” Michele ordered. The twins stopped talking, but not glaring at each other. “You don’t like Charlie, but if Marco does, you have to accept that. Forcing your opinion onto Marco is not convincing him, just hurting him – as you can see.” 

“He won’t listen to me anyways,” Lorenzo snarled. 

“I did for long enough,” Marco replied. “Now I’m going to do what _I_ want!”

“And that’s jumping straight onto his dick, or what?”

“What?! No! Who do you think I am, what kind of person do you take me for?!”

“As of right now, I don’t know you brother,” Lorenzo said. “So fuck me if I knew what you’re about to do.”

“I wasn’t replaced by a love blind or horny doppelganger, Lorenzo!” Marco’s glare intensified. “I’m wondering about you though, because I can’t remember my brother being such a son of a whore!”

“ _I’m_ the son of a whore?” Lorenzo thumped his finger against his chest: “When it’s _you_ ”, now he thumped it against Marco’s, ”who changed!”

“And that’s okay!” Michele said. “It’s okay to change! You’re _twenty_ , you’re going to change a lot more! You know I’m not the person I was when I was twenty! Although right now, I’m feeling just as stressed out as I did back then!” He wheezed once. “It’s okay if Marco changes or you change, Lorenzo, and it’s okay if you two go for different directions! And it’s okay if Marco likes someone you don’t as long as they’re a decent person and trust me, Charlie is! You’re not strangers to each other all out of sudden, so what are you afraid will happen?” 

Lorenzo side eyed Marco. “That Marco won’t care about my point of view anymore.”

“Oh, that _I_ won’t care about _your_ point of view is what you’re afraid of?!” Marco shouted. “I cared about your point of view all the time, if meant to or not! Because I thought it should be my point of view, no matter how I actually felt! You never cared for _my_ point of view!” 

Lorenzo had lowered his head a little while Marco went off like that. The cool expression of resentment gave way to a face that had guilt and nervousness written in it as he avoided Marco’s gaze. He scratched his head. 

“Well, you never told me about your point of view,” he said as he finally could look him in the eyes. 

“Guess why I didn’t fucking tell you! Fucking Christ, I just told you why! Because I thought my point of view was wrong, because you kept assuring me it was! And last night, I _tried_ to tell you and what did you do? Cut me off immediately and said how I _couldn’t_ like Charlie!” 

“I never – “ Lorenzo started but stopped himself, pulling a face like he had just been stung. 

“You always did”, Marco said. 

Lorenzo scratched his head again and stared at the table. His shoulders fell with a jerk. He turned to Marco again: “So you do like Charlie.”

“Yes. I’ve told him so, too, when we were downstairs” Marco answered and Lorenzo pressed his lips together. 

“Marco, I just don’t want you to rush anything now and that you at least think about it before you – “

“I literally just told Charlie that I like him, nothing more! And I’ve _thought_ about it for long enough, trust me!” Marco said. “I’ll do what I think is right!”

Lorenzo frowned and the corners of his mouth pulled upwards. There was no more guilt in his face, just irritation. 

“Fine!” he spat. “But if you fall on your fucking face and break your rose coloured glasses, it’s your own fault!”

“We’re not going to solve this now, are we?”, Michele said when Marco was already taking a breath to respond to Lorenzo. 

Lorenzo: “Guess not!”  

Marco: “Probably not!”

“Then we’ll have to put your problems with each other aside for now. And now once more and this time without drama: Who’s coming with me and who’s staying for Harry and Charlie?” 

Marco and Lorenzo looked at each other exactly the same way they had when Michele had first asked the question. Michele gazed into space while his fingernails dug violently into the back of his hand. 

“I’m still going with them,” Marco said and Lorenzo bristled. 

“No! None of that!” Michele said. “You two tell me often enough that you are twenty, not two. Behave like it if you want to be treated like it. Speaking of it, we’re probably going to talk about a few things, Lorenzo.”

“Fucking great,” Lorenzo said, but Michele held his hand up. 

“I just want to talk about a few things, not lecture you – unless you’ll make me.”

Paddy had ended his phone call and was returning to the table. Michele turned to him: “Perfect timing, Patrick, we’ve just finished as well and decided to go.” 

“May I ask what exactly you just finished?” Paddy asked and put the hood of his jacket on. 

“Personal issues, as I told you,” Michele replied while he stood up. “Just a little argument between siblings. Who have you been talking with, if I may ask?” He adjusted his sleeves. All with a smile friendlier than any other man would have been able to muster. 

“Just a personal call back home,” Paddy said. 

“Ah, I see,” Michele said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Paddy’s neutral expression crack for a second. A short frown, a scrunch of his nose. 

_Got ya._

His father’s voice made a cold shiver ran down Michele’s back and he immediately snapped out of his smug mood. He tried not to show it, though. “Lorenzo, could you give me the suitcase?”, he asked.

“Sure” Lorenzo said and shortly looked down before he grabbed the one in front of Marco and handed it to Michele over the table. 

“Don’t forget the other case, Marco,” Michele said when he took it.

“Of course not,” Marco said. 

“Michele, there’s a smear of blood on your hand,” Paddy said and Michele blinked before he looked down on his hands. “Are you alright?”

“I am,” he said and grabbed another napkin to wipe it off. “It’s just a bad habit.” He collected the napkin he had used to wipe away the spit and crumpled both up in his hand.  
Paddy’s eyes lingered on Michele for a while, without mistrust, without suspicion. He looked a little lost in thoughts if anything.

Nothing to be ticked off by, and yet, there was a short sting in his chest. Only for the fracture of a moment and it left Michele filled with confusion. 

Paddy looked over to Marco: “You’re staying here?” 

“Yeah, I’m going with Harry and Charlie,” he replied. 

Paddy sighed quietly. “Let’s hope they didn’t get into any trouble yet.” 

“Yes, let’s hope,” Michele said. “But I’m sure we’ll see each other again later”, he said to Marco. 

“Sure thing,” Marco said. 

Michele gave him a smile, put his hood on and headed for the stairs with Paddy and Lorenzo. 

Paddy stopped once at the top of the stairs and turned around to Marco. “Good luck, Marco,” he said. “Help my boys, though god knows they are usually beyond help.” 

Marco snickered and said “I will!” 

They disappeared out of his sight and left him behind with an angry knot in his stomach. 

As if the question where to take his relationship with Charlie hadn’t been complicated enough yet. If he started to date him right away now, he felt like he’d secretly just do it to spite Lorenzo. 

Had he thought of dating Charlie already? Yes. Had he seen something wrong with it? No. Had he been completely convinced he should do it? No, he was still unsure himself what to do with him and Charlie. 

Did Lorenzo just rob him of the feeling that _any_ decision he made would be entirely his own? Fucking Yes. Even now he was undermining his feelings. 

Marco grabbed the case and stood up with dash, so much dash the case loudly slammed again the table. 

His heart skipped a beat until he remembered that it was just full of his and Lorenzo’s smelly clothes anyways. He pulled himself together and strode downstairs instead of running. 

Once downstairs, he leant against a wall. The mirror next to him still shook a little from the impact while pretended watch what was on the big TV behind the counter. 

Two sport reporters were talking about the upcoming game between the SSC Napoli and the Torino FC. 

The only thought he wasted on it was how he’d rather have the SSC win than Torino. He mostly wondered where Charlie and Harry got to while he kept sneaking glances at the café’s front windows. 

After roughly ten minutes of unnerving wait, he heard the roar of a car engine. Seconds later, a yellow Porsche came to a hold in front of the store with the ugly sound of screeching brakes.

He quickly made it outside and picked his pace up another notch when he saw the look on Charlie’s and Harry’s faces. The driver’s window slid down, Charlie behind the wheel and Harry on the backseat, though he leant so far forwards his face was next to Charlie’s. 

“Jump in, door’s the other side!” Charlie said, then leant over the passenger seat.

Marco took one step before he hopped onto the car’s hood and slid across it instead. 

Charlie had opened the door already. Marco leaped inside and shut the door as soon as he hit the seat. 

He was greeted by Charlie’s completely aghast face, mouth hanging wide open as he stared at him. 

“What? You said I had to get in quick!” 

“Drive!” Harry snapped at him and while Charlie moaned “My poor car, that could have ended in a dent”, he engaged another gear and hit the gas again. 

The engine roared and the Porsche sped off. 

“You have bigger problems than a fucking dent in your bloody car now!” Harry said. 

“What problems?!” Marco asked and Harry looked at him. 

“Vargas showed up the second we were leaving the parking block!” 

“What?!” Marco said and was thrown at the glove compartment when Charlie hit the break to negotiate a curve. 

“Marco, would you please put on a safety belt? I don’t want a dent in my car, but much less do I want a dent in you!” Charlie said and shot him a worried look. 

Suddenly, there seemed to be much more pressing matters to Marco than one of the Vargas having spotted them. 

His feelings seemed to be in for a bumpy ride as well. 

* * *

 

For a second, every fibre of Lovino’s being felt like pure, unadulterated rage. 

“Slipping right through my fingers!” He screamed and jumped once, knees high and hands balled into fists. 

He took a step after the car when his mind started to work again. 

_You can’t run after them._ Wiped blank just a second ago, thoughts descended on him all at once now. 

_Mariani, you’ve been worrying about her and them just a moment ago –_

“Oh fuck,” he said. 

“Mariani!” Gabriella stormed off into the building. “The phone call, I knew it! There _was_ something wrong!” 

Fabio watched the Porsche as it disappeared around the corner. 

Lovino was already on the go to follow when Gabriella stopped for a moment and turned around. Fabio returned her look and began to follow her as well. 

“Keep going,” he said as he quickly hunkered down to pick up what O’Connel had thrown out earlier. 

It turned out to be a phone. The screen was completely smashed and the backside missing. 

“Do you think that’s hers?” Lovino asked. 

“Might be. It would explain why they wanted to get rid of it.” 

Gabriella was still marching onwards, but Lovino saw how she clenched her hands into fists and pulled her shoulders up. 

It reminded him of what they wanted to do right now. 

“We should split up,” Lovino said. “She could be anywhere, if she’s even still in the parking block. Fabio, call Feli. They need to know about all of this, we can’t lose time, not with Mariani and not with the Irish either!” 

“Yes, Lovino,” Fabio replied and pulled his phone out. 

“If we split up, we should maybe do it by levels,” Lovino told Gabriella. 

“Yes. Who takes which?” 

“You take this level, I’ll go and look around on the second in the meantime. Fabio – “ Lovino turned his head towards Fabio. He was telling, presumably Feliciano, about the Irish right now. 

“Just let him stay with me, he can search the third level after the phone call,” she said. She looked Lovino right in the eyes: “We’ve got no time to lose.” 

Lovino was frozen for a split second, before he nodded. “You’re right.” He whirled around and strode off, Gabriella sprinted over to Fabio said: “Come with me.” 

Doubts about the plan started to spread when Lovino couldn’t find a stairwell in the direction he had went, but he waved them aside and marched on. He was rewarded for it mere moments later when he found the staircase entry as part of a massive pillar. 

His steps echoed in the empty staircase as he sprinted up the stairs. At one point he started to notice his own breathing. It annoyed him out of his mind all the short way up. 

He ripped the door open, heard himself panting and felt his heart beat out of his chest. 

Through wide gaps alongside the wall, the buzz of the city came in. It was enough background noise for his own ones to soften. 

Now he could concentrate on why he was here again. 

He turned his head left – only cars, ranging from small Fiats to Mercedes Limousines. 

He looked to the right and into a familiar face among the cars.

Mariani held her head and staggered before she came to a full hold. She returned Lovino’s look, her eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging slightly open. She looked confused to a degree that made Lovino’s heart drop into his guts. 

“Mariani!” She cringed when he called her name – and she began to twitch when he ran to her. As if her muscles felt like they had do _something_ , but her mind couldn’t tell them _what_. 

“Signorina Mariani, are you alright?!” Lovino asked her and seized her by her upper arms. 

She flinched hard in his grip. Her knees bent, so low she was close to crumpling. Lovino felt his heart skip a beat. Milliseconds, he was torn between letting her go and keep holding her. 

He decided for holding onto her. Together with his help, she was able to stand up again. He loosened his grip. 

“We should find a place for you to sit down,“ Lovino said, while he scanned her head or arms for any visible injuries. He found none. 

Mariani stared at him. “Why are you here?” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Lovino steered her towards the sidewalk running along the wall. “Tell me, Mariani, what happened?” 

Mariani at first moved her feet with him, steps like a puppet with rusty joints. Then suddenly she braced her feet against the floor. “Stop! Signore Vargas, what are you doing?! I’m alright!” 

“You’ve just almost collapsed in my arms, you aren’t alright!” he told her. “So now sit or lie down and tell me what happened!” 

“It’s okay! You can let go of me, I’ve just got a bitch of a headache – “ 

“This is an order!” 

Mariani returned Lovino’s stare. Her lower lip started to tremble and with a look even more sour than his, she started to move. Lovino let go of one arm but it wasn’t until she sat down on the sidewalk with him he removed the other one as well. 

“Now you tell me what happened to you,” he said. He looked through his pockets while he waited for her answer. 

“Those fucking Irish happened to me,” she said. Lovino had just pulled his phone out. He stopped typing and looked at her. “After … After I …” Her breath grew hard. 

Lovino put a hand on her back. “What did they do to you? Doesn’t matter yet what happened before or afterwards.” 

Mariani looked at him and he returned it. He tried his damnest to keep his relaxed looks while the seconds went by. He felt his phone heavy in his hand, constantly reminding him how he needed to call Gabriella. Mariani’s breathing calmed down. He held his breath to not hyperventilate. 

“They’ve knocked me out. One of them …,” she closed her eyes for a second and slowly opened them again. “Knocked me out. Chased me down the stairwell and … pressed me against the wall. Then I woke up here – “

She craned her neck and looked around. 

She seemed to be utterly lost and Lovino’s vision darkened for a second. Then he coughed and took deep breaths. 

“Signore Vargas?” 

“I’m alright, I’m alright.” Lovino waved his hand. “So they knocked you out and you woke up here.” 

“Not exactly here but …” 

“I don’t think it’s that important right now,” Lovino said. “Or do you?” 

Mariani looked first at him, then turned her head. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Good.” He unlocked his phone again. “Then I am going to call Signorina Acerbi now that I found you and then we’ll get you to the nearest hospital.” 

“What?! I don’t need a fucking hospital!” she screamed. 

Lovino had his phone already pressed against his ear. “You do. A bitch of a headache, that’s not really cutting it.” 

“You’re … “, Mariani struggled to find words but before Lovino could hush her preventatively, Gabriella answered the phone. 

“Lovi?” 

“Gabriella. I found Mariani on the second floor, she’s sitting right next to me. I think she maybe has a concussion, but I’m not sure. Someone needs to take her to the hospital.” 

Lovino heard her inhale sharply. “I’m on my way. What about Mariani? How urgent is it?” 

“She’s awake, awake enough to argue with me about how she’s alright, but she seems very confused. One of the Irish knocked her out, she told me.” 

“Okay, I see. I’ll be there in a minute. Does Fabio already know you found her?” 

“No, I didn’t tell him yet.” 

“I will.” 

Gabriella hung up. Lovino kept his phone pressed against his ear. 

“You’re fucking wasting time,” Mariani said. “Those fucking Irish could be anywhere by now. Why … Did you not search for them – “

“We saw them drive past us when we entered the building,” Lovino said. “But we decided that you were the more urgent matter in that moment. We’ve worried what had happened to you after your phone call, you know.” 

“My phone call?” Mariani asked. In the next moment, she started to feel her pockets. 

“They’ve took your phone, we assume. At least they dropped a completely shattered one out of their window.” Lovino said. 

_You didn’t even remember to look for your phone up to now. Nor do you remember the phone call – and you want to tell me you’re fine?_ The next thought just made the first one even more bitter. _You’re not and if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll take care of you. Because that is apparently all that I am good for – cleaning up the mess I made. Instead of preventing it, instead of trying to finally put an end to it. What a great leader you are, Lovino, I wonder who you’re going to console next, because you sure as fuck didn’t do shit to put an end to this now. You gave them a fucking headstart!  
_

_You_ allowed _them to slip through your fingers!  
_

He noticed he was still pressing the phone to his ear. 

He ripped it away and almost threw it onto the ground in a fit of rage. _  
_

The staircase door opened. 

Lovino looked at Mariani, but she was too busy huff at the sight of Gabriella to notice it. 

“No it isn’t” Lovino said and stood up. 

“Is everything alright?!” Gabriella asked and picked up her pace. 

The door had just fallen shut when Fabio entered. 

He was talking on the phone. “Send them the address and tell them to come here as soon as possible. You know what, connect me with them, anything that needs to be organized because of the circumstances or her condition, needs to be organized in real time. Thank you.” 

“Who is going to send who?” he asked Fabio. 

“I asked Feliciano if someone is near us who could drive Mariani to the hospital, because we’re impeded much easier.” 

“How are you feeling?” Gabriella asked Mariani and hunkered down in front of her. 

“I’m alright,” she said, her voice a grumble towards the end. 

“They knocked her out and when I found her, she was stumbling around in the middle of the lane,” Lovino answered. “She says she has a headache and to me, she seems to be confused and have struggles thinking clearly.” 

“I’m still here!” Mariani said, but Lovino turned to her with a withering look. 

“And if you had told the truth instead of saying you’re fine, I wouldn’t have to talk as if you weren’t.” He turned back to Fabio. “Hand me the car keys. Did Feliciano find someone?” 

“Gori and Oberti, and they’re already on their way,” Fabio said and threw him the car keys. “I know I went over your head with that decision, but it seemed like a good idea.” 

“It is one,” Lovino said. “I’ll get the car and if I’ll be back before the two, we’ll take her.” 

Lovino looked at Gabriella and Mariani one last time as Fabio said “That’s reasonable.“ 

“Are you nauseous?” Gabriella asked. 

“Don’t think so,” Mariani answered. “I really only have a headache.” 

Lovino turned around and started walking. 

“Let’s get you outside, Mariani,” Fabio said. “Fresh air helps after having fainted.” His phone rang again. “Bellini?” 

“Alright, Signorina Mariani, can you stand up alone?” Gabriella asked. 

“Yes! Fuckingdammnit, this is a joke!” Mariani snapped and so did the staircase’s door behind Lovino. 

Lovino barely heard his footsteps on his way down. The thoughts in his head drummed louder than the heart in his chest. 

Cars honked as he crossed the street but Lovino just shot the driver in front of him a glare. 

He pulled his phone out, not slowing down and doing the bare minimum to avoid running somebody down. 

_They see I have places to go and as long they’re not 80 with a broken hip, they can move it damn it!_ , he thought after he dialled and put the phone to his ear.

“Pronto?” 

“Feli! I need you to do a few things for me!” 

“Well, that’s all I’ve been doing today!” Feliciano panted slightly. 

The second Lovino thought about that, he noticed he was panting as well. 

“We found Mariani by now, as you already know –

“Yes.” 

“And if the two you sent won’t be at the parking block before I’m back with our car, we’ll take her to the hospital. She insists on being fine, but has trouble thinking and almost broke down in my arms. There is _something_ wrong and who knows what happens if we don’t find out what soon enough. Especially with no doctor around.” 

“Of course! I can call the nearest hospital, too, to make sure she’s getting help as soon as possible.” 

“Let someone else do it,” Lovino said. “One of those you sent here anyways. How did you even know so fast if anyone of our men were in this area?” 

“Oh, I started to track them and made a map with everyone’s position in realtime! So that we could coordinate everyone’s movements better, especially when we need someone somewhere really quick. Like now!” 

Lovino almost walked past the street they had parked their car in. He only spotted their car after he had glared at another driver who honked at him while crossing the street. “I see. That’s … That’s a really good idea.” 

_That’s exactly what I needed._ Lovino unlocked the car. 

Through the phone, he heard the faint vibrations of holding one’s chuckle in. “Thought it would help,” Feliciano said after that. 

“We’ll need a lot of coordination now to get Michele and his nasty friends,” Lovino said and slammed the door shut behind him. “First of all, I want that you give out a description of their car to anyone – “

“Oh, I already did! Fabio gave me one. Wait a second, I …” 

Lovino heard the rustling of paper while he floored it. He backed out in one swift curve before he hit the brakes hard. He still couldn’t avoid that his back tires jumped onto sidewalk and almost bottomed out. 

“I know I wrote the description down somewhere,” Feliciano said while Lovino swerved to get on track. 

“I’ll give it to you again, just make sure someone sends it out to everyone looking for those bastards immediately!” He looked left and right once he had already entered the lane. “Grab something to write it down!” 

“Alright!” Feliciano replied. Despite it being a single word, he sounded out of breath by its end. 

“We’re looking for a yellow Porsche 911er, not older than 2010 – “ Lovino said and turned into the lane to the parking block. 

“Wait!” Feliciano yelled and he drove almost into a wall. “I gave the description Signorina Pavone so she could spread it! Yellow Porsche 911er in good condition but with the wheel on the right and an Irish license plate 11 D … some long number! Right?!” 

Lovino frowned irritated as he jerked the wheel violently. “I don’t really remember the license plate, only that it was an Irish one, but the rest is right, so I – _and_ I trust Fabio to get the license plate right – And how many garish yellow Porsches with Irish license plates and the wheel on the goddamn wrong side are in Rome today, what do you think?!” 

He now made the effort to look at the parking block’s driveway, even if only to establish eyecontact with the driver who was about to pull out, so he would know better than to start driving as Lovino turned into the street. 

“I guess there won’t be many,” Feliciano said as Lovino came to a stop next to the sidewalk. 

“I’ll call you back in a second, Feli,” Lovino told him and hung up mid Feli’s “Yes Lovino!” 

He was just about to call Fabio when a call of Gabriella came in instead. 

“Pronto?” 

“They came and took Mariani with them. The door you sat next to – “

_There was a door?_

“ – led to a small alley where we took Mariani, Gori parked above it and they’re on their way to the hospital right now.” 

“That’s good to know. Mariani didn’t break down again or anything?” 

“No. She seems to have trouble standing but aside from that she didn’t get any worse. Gori was very keen on Mariani resting herself and not making a fuss, too, so she’s in good hands.” 

“If they weren’t, they’d get to know how it feels when I mistreat someone,” Lovino said. 

“That’s what I thought,” Gabriella said. “So, what’s next? Where are you?” 

“I got our car and am standing in front of the parking block, waiting for you.” 

“We’ll be there in a second!” 

Lovino smirked but Gabriella hung up before he could say “Good.” For a moment, he looked at the phone with a chuckle, before the corners of his mouth dropped slightly again. 

He dialled up his brother once more. 

“Pronto?” 

“I’m back,” Lovino said. “Gori is taking Mariani to the hospital now and once Fabio and Rella are back, we’ll be on our way to the office.” 

“Oh, that’s good to – “

“Now about the Irish and the Sicilians.” 

“Yes?” 

Lovino sighed. “We’ll have to figure out how we’ll catch them. Even if we find them, how do we stop them?” 

Feliciano was quiet for a second, before he took a deep breath and said: “If we use the same methods as we did with the train stations and airports, we could station people on all the access roads to Rome.” 

“You know that is impossible, _all_ , we won’t even be able to properly control the big main roads. We don’t have enough people for this and there’ll always be more than enough secondary roads that lead out of the city. What are we even going to do, bringing Rome’s traffic to a standstill?! We can only try and monitor the main roads and all that’ll do is that we can see them speed off into the horizon, now for real! Because I ain’t gonna chase them then and sic the highway patrol on my own ass!” 

“I know, Lovino,” Feliciano said. “It’s not a good method. Now that we know however that they’re going by car, we could pull off most of the people at the train stations and airports – “

“No!” Lovino slammed his hand onto the wheel. “I’m not going to … to lift this state of emergency until I’ve seen with my own two eyes that we caught them! We’ve only saw O’Connel and Higgins, the rest of this rotten bunch could be anywhere! As long as there is a chance that even a single one of them, and especially Michele, could leave any other way, we’re not going to loosen any of those measures!” 

Lovino jumped when the door beside him opened loudly. Gabriella sat down beside him while Fabio got in behind Lovino. Gabriella slammed the car door shut, Fabio closed it firmly and Lovino turned the key in the ignition. 

“You’re right, but now that we actually saw them, we maybe should shift our focus – “ Feliciano said. 

“Shift the focus, okay, my ass, but we won’t treat those other escape routes like it could happen just in case!” Lovino floored it and the car jumped before he engaged the right gear. “They’re not going to leave this city! And if it is the last thing I do! From this point on, we’re not going half ass anything anymore, because I’m sick of it! I’m so sick of us half assing this and I’m sick of them half assing this!” Lovino turned into the next street and cut off another car that just wanted to drive along. He didn’t even hear the screeching brakes and honking car horn. 

“They don’t even have to take this serious! They can stare me straight in the eyes as they fuck off and I can’t do _shit_! If they think they’re playing a game, then we’ll play along!

Then they’ll see how far their desultoriness is going to get them!” 

“Lovino!” Gabriella screamed and put her hands to the steering wheel as Lovino almost scratched a car on the opposing lane. “I’ll drive!” she said. “Pull over at the next opportunity! And put your seatbelt on next time!” 

Lovino looked at her. “You’re not wearing one, either!” 

“Eyes on the road! And my carelessness is no excuse for yours!” 

“Alright, jesus! When did you became my nanny?!” 

“When you started to act like a brat!” 

“Lovi, Lovi, are you alright?!” Feliciano asked and Lovino was only now reminded he was still on the line. 

“Yeah, nothing happened!” he said as he parked the car on the sidewalk in front of a driveway. “So, what were we talking about?” he asked and opened the car door. Just as he wanted to take a step forward, something pulled him back and pressed him against the car. 

The same moment a motorcycle drove so close by it almost hit the closing front door. 

Lovino looked at Fabio, who was still holding onto his collar, out of the corners of his eyes. “Would you _stop that?!_ ” 

“Stop what? Preventing you from getting into accidents?” Fabio asked. “I think – “

“You don’t need to handle me with kid gloves! I haven’t gotten into any accidents when I drove alone to you, either!” 

“Which is a miracle. I think you should go sit in the back, I’d take the front seat and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. And make sure Gabriella _isn’t_ distracted while she’s driving.” 

“Fine!” Lovino said and pulled the door open while Fabio sprinted around the car and Gabriella got in in the front. “Although I don’t know why I’m more distracting in the front seat! Or distracting at all!” 

After Lovino sat down in the back, he asked: “Feli? Are you still there?” 

“Lovino? What did you say?” Feliciano asked, sounding further away than he had before. 

“I asked if you were still there!” 

“Oh yes, I just took out my headset and held it a little away. My ear is ringing after you yelled.” 

Lovino rolled his eyes and groaned deep inside of his throat. 

“Anyways, Lovino, so … we’re not loosening any security measures, you’re right. But now, if they all do try to leave by car, we need a plan to stop them.” 

“That was indeed what we were talking about. And you’ve got no ideas?” 

“Well, we could try to get a hold of the camera footage of the toll plazas again but that’d be just as useless as control them. Aside from that …” 

“We don’t need any kind of control, no, we need _control_.” Lovino clenched his open hand into a fist. “We have home advantage, for fuck’s sake, we shouldn’t run after them but they should come to us. There is no one who knows this city like me, there is no loophole that they could know that I don’t. I should be leaning back and wait until they run into my arms!” 

“Well, for that we would have to set a trap, which we can’t, because there are too many places they could escape through,“ Feliciano droned quietly, as if he was more with his thoughts than with Lovino. “Even if we could do that without causing massive traffic chaos, we don’t have enough staff to do it properly. We’d have to organize this more efficient … we’d have to ensure they go the way we want them to.” 

“Then we’ll organize it more efficiently! We’ll do what we have to!” Feliciano didn’t answer and Lovino felt how the silence only unnerved him more. “Organize it more effectively!” 

“I will!” Feliciano squealed. “Just give me a few moments, I’ll think of something!” 

“We don’t have those few moments!” Lovino said and felt bad the second those words left his mouth. As If Feliciano didn’t knew this. As if he wasn’t just as stressed out as himself. 

“ _I know!_ I’m trying, trust me, but I can’t … think clearly! I’m sorry!” 

Lovino tried to take a deep breath but his heart in his mouth drove him crazy that he started to talk midway through: “You must have some idea how to organize them better! Can’t you use the map your programmed for this ?!” 

“The map! Of course! That’s it!” Another pause of Feliciano but Lovino felt dizzy as he opened his mouth again. “Then we could bring our men into position and change it almost immediately if needed! What we’d need for this however would be to track the position of Michele as well, otherwise this won’t work.” 

“Can’t we just … I don’t know, shoot a tracker at the ass of their car?!” Lovino asked. “If we’re going to spot them, we won’t lose sight of them, anyways!” 

“That’d be enough, actually! If someone shadows them and transmits their position! Or we could piece their route together from everyone’s sightings and their position, but that’d be much less reliable and efficient.”

“I don’t want unreliable! I told you, no half assing anymore! Whoever spots them first, follows them, end of discussion!”

“Alright!” 

“Let someone issue that, too! Tell everyone that that’s an order!” 

“I will!” Feliciano took a breath and audibly stopped. “I should better do it right now.” 

“Yes, you should!” Lovino said. 

“Give me half a minute, I’ll be right back!”

Lovino closed his eyes as he waited for his brother to return. He intently listened regardless, hoping to catch some background noise. It would drown out his own heartbeat. 

“What’s the plan so far?” 

Lovino started as Fabio asked. In the next moment, he was glad for it. Now that he couldn’t answer immediately, his thoughts fell into place in his head instead of stumbling over each other. 

“We’re going to lead them into a trap. Once someone finds them, you know, we’ll send back up with the help of the live map Feliciano made – did he tell you about it?” 

“He did.” 

“So, with the help of this tracking map we encircle them, set up the nearest roadblock or force them into the next dead end.” 

Silence ensued and Lovino tried to calm himself down by telling himself that he was merely thinking about what has been said as he stared at Fabio. 

The saviour of his already weak nerves appeared in form of Feliciano. 

“I’m sorry it took so long! I asked Signorina Pavone what progress we made with finding them in general when I gave her the order. So far we have no news, though.” 

“No news is bad news,” Lovino said. 

“I know but at least it buys us time to properly think about our plan! Especially about how we’ll actually catch them once we found – “

“We’ll surround them and force them into the nearest dead end. Or put up a road block in a small street and make that their nearest dead end. I thought that was obvious.” 

“Ah, of course! Right, all right.” Feliciano went silent for a moment. “Another thing to consider is then what if Michele leaves in different car than the Irish?” 

“I know how his car looks and I know this toy car of the twins, if that’s all what you’re worrying about you can go right back to Signorina Pavone and let her send out those descriptions too!” 

“You know, I thought more about Michele renting a car. Since he’s keeping a low profile so far and we haven’t had any trace of him other than the alleged sighting at the Termini.” 

Lovino groaned frustrated and rubbed his eyes.

“Then we’ll look out for rented cars! They’re obvious enough in many cases!” Some part inside of Lovino wanted to punch him for the stupidity that left his mouth. 

“In some cases, sure, I can tell them to look out for rented cars, too.” Feliciano’s tiredness was only thinly veiled by his usual enthusiasm.   
Lovino clenched his teeth. “You know what? If we can’t find Michele, we’ll just hold those fucking leprechauns hostage until he comes back to us. I have an axe to grind with O’Connel anyways. You know what? Even if Michele won’t come back for his boy toy, then at least I’ll make sure I’ll never _ever_ have to worry about this freckled fucker again. I’ll get Michele and I’ll get the fucking painting later then. I have exactly no idea what this entire stunt even is anymore but I know I’ll smother it right in the cradle.” 

“I see your point, Lovi,” Feliciano replied. “I think that should work.” 

“Good.” Lovino sighed. Thoughts rushed by in his head, but none stuck out. “Then we’re finished, aren’t we?” 

“I think so.” 

“Plan’s easy, isn’t it? We’ll look for the Porsche, catch them and either catch Michele with them or make him come back for them – The End.” 

“Is the plan really so easy?” Fabio asked and Lovino felt how his heart skipped a beat. 

“That’s it indeed!” Feliciano said. 

“Feli, not now,” Lovino said and impatiently stared at Fabio. “What do you mean?” he asked him. 

“What if they just take one of the main traffic routes to get out of Rome? Your plan is solely build around stealth and catching them from ambush, but you said yourself earlier that there is nothing we can do if they just leave the city straight on the highway.” 

“And you didn’t remind me of that earlier?! You wait until _after_ I wasted precious time of coming up with a plan to tell me that it’s useless?!” 

“Lovi?” Feliciano asked. 

“I’ll get back to you! We’ll be at the office in a few minutes anyways!” He hung up and slid a little more off his seat as he leant in to Fabio. 

“I didn’t say it was useless! The plan itself is good!” Fabio turned to face Lovino. “You said yourself that there is only so little we can do when they’re taking a main road and that is the reason we need to think about how we avoid this scenario!” 

Lovino held his gaze but, unlike Fabio, was increasingly aggravated by it. 

“We’ll set up something to scare them off!” he vented. “If we can’t actually do shit on the main roads, we’ll make sure that they believe we could nab them effortlessly there! It’s just like putting up a scarecrow – All bark and no bite, but they’ll buy it if we bark loud enough!” 

“And what’s this scarecrow supposed to be?” 

Lovino didn’t know if Fabio really had said it in a disappreciating tone or if he heard it that way because he expected it. What he knew for sure is that it made his blood boil. 

“Ourselves! Michele and his friends have been running from us all day, so why should they stop now?!” 

Fabio opened his mouth – and closed it. Lovino frowned and when Fabio turned around, his eyebrows started to twitch in annoyance and confusion alike. 

“What? What?!” 

“Nothing! I’m just stunned!” Fabio replied. 

“You’re stunned because it could work?!” Fairly, Lovino was surprised about that himself, but would be damned if he’d let that show. Instead, he leant further towards him. “Did you want a so – “

The _– lution or not_ was swallowed by a yelp. After sliding closer and closer to the edge of his seat, he had finally slid over it and found himself folded like a lawn chair in the footwell. 

“Lovino! Didn’t I tell you to put your seatbelt on?!” Gabriella said and threw him an angry glare. “If you keep doing this, you’ll break your neck before you grab Michele by his!” 

“Alright, alright!” Lovino yelled, then wheezed, as he pulled himself up. “You were right!” 

“Of course I was!” she replied. 

While he struggled with his seatbelt, Fabio said: “Now it raises the question how we set ourselves up threating and inevitable noticeable enough. The entire concept of our company is built on not attracting any attention.”

“Oh geez, really? I didn’t know, thanks for telling me how my own business works,” Lovino said but Fabio didn’t react. “Well, O’Connel wanted to be swallowed by the ground as soon as he saw us. We don’t need fake roadblocks or an entire army at every main road – “

Lovino stopped and as Fabio carried on talking instead, he gave voice to Lovino’s thoughts: 

“That’s another problem. We can’t just secure every route ourselves, we’re six people at most whose faces they’d immediately recognize. Even Michele won’t know the majority of our subordinates well enough that we could just sent them out to stand at the side of the roads and let that be warning. We can’t pull this off ourselves, but if we’d had enough men for a fake roadblock, we’d have enough for a real one.” 

Lovino buried his face in his hands instead of a reply. It was very hard to refrain from screaming into them. 

“We don’t need to secure every road or the whole rigmarole, as Lovino said,” Gabriella said. “We only need ourselves.” 

“Explain me how,” Fabio asked. 

The seat belt pressed against Lovino’s body and annoyed him greatly as he leant forwards, but in the same moment he remembered for who he was leaning forwards.

“Lovino?” Gabriella asked and quickly looked at him before her eyes turned back to the road. 

“Yes Rella?” 

“Did I understand the plan right that once someone finds them, they’ll call back up and then trap them?” 

Lovino paused to recap the plan internally. “Yes. Feliciano made a map to – “

“To track people in real time, yes. Fabio told me about it.” She breathed in. “Then what’s all the fuss about? As soon as they are found, we’ll join the backup. I didn’t want to sit back in the office and just watch how everything unravels, unable to do something, anyways.” 

“Neither did I, trust me, we won’t leave the front lines now, “Lovino said. 

“But the question still is where we will take up position,” Fabio said. “And I still don’t quite understand how us taking part in the chase will make sure they’ll let it come down to a chase at all.” 

“You said that we need them to take a smaller byroad for the plan to work and Lovino said they’re running away from us anyways. So if they’re driving on a road where our people can’t encircle them, why don’t we just help them? They’ll see us and try to avoid us by taking one of the sidestreets. And that’s where we want them, don’t we?” 

Lovino thought about it for a moment. It didn’t need more for his thoughts to gain momentum and spin out of control. 

“This won’t be a chase, this’ll be a _hunt_ ,” he said. “Oh, I love the ring that has to it! Like dumb deer flees from the barking dogs only to end up staring right into the rifle’s barrel!” 

“It’s a good idea,” Fabio said. “There are just a few problems as well. If we don’t find them fast enough, there is nothing would keep them from leaving the easiest way.” 

“If we can’t find them, then they’ll be gone, no matter if highway or rat run!” Lovino said. “What’s the other problem?!” Fabio didn’t reply. “I’ll take that as there isn’t one. Then I’ll decide we’re going to do it Gabriella’s way.” 

“I’m still thinking,” Fabio replied. 

“If you need to think about it for so long, it can’t be that severe” Lovino said. “I’m going to call Feli again and tell him about our change of plans.” As he pulled his phone out, he said: “I’ll definitely have to tell Feli I need Franci for this. If that face doesn’t have signal effect, then I don’t know.” He grinned. 

“Michele will definitely turn his heel when he sees him,” Gabriella said and Lovino laughed. 

“If he sees you however, I think he’d start to run after you instead of running away.” 

“If he wants to run into my arms, then he can do that and get his beating,” Gabriella said. “I wanted to do that for a very long time, anyways.”

“That’s all nice to think about but we might won’t see Michele at all.” Fabio said. “Since he tries to keep a profile as low as possible, I think he’ll have went for a rented car and you only know it is a rented one in some obvious cases and even then, there are too many of those.” 

Lovino looked away and whispered: “I know.” 

_Would you all stop pointing out my idiocy? I’m aware of it, thank you._

“Lovi?” Feliciano answered his call, but he turned to Fabio first: 

“We already said that if we can’t catch him, we’ll take the Irish hostage and make him come back for them.” He turned his look away from Fabio. “Feli, we’ve made an addition to the plan.” 

Lovino took a breath and Feliciano slid “What addition?” into this second. 

“To make sure they will have to take one of the small sidestreets where we can catch them, we’ll be on the road as well. We’ll just go back to the offices to get our own cars. So if someone spots them, I want that they – or you – give that info immediately to us so we can help.” 

“Will do!” 

“Also tell Franci that he’ll join us,” Lovino said. “It’d be even better if Dolco could join us too.” 

“How is Dolcetto, anyways?” Gabriella asked. “Did he get better?”

“Oh, I don’t know if Dolco should … what exactly do you want to do?” Feliciano asked at the same time. “How do you want to make sure they’ll be where we want them to be?” 

“We thought about how we have to get them off of the mainroads for our plan to work, and decided that since they’re on the run from us anyways and O’Connel tried to be swallowed by the car seat as he saw us, we’d just need to show our faces on the paths we don’t want them to take.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

“That’s why I want Franci to come with us, because they’ll definitely recognize his face, especially in a car like his.” He rubbed his forehead. “And I would love to have Dolco as well, but that depends on the shape he’s in. How is he, anyways?” 

“Dolco?” Feliciano asked. “Well he’s … he’s still working.” He chuckled but there was little cheeriness to it, too little to hide the gloom of his answer. Lovino was glad Gabriella couldn’t hear it. “He refuses to take a break, but overall he seems okay. Wouldn’t guess he got it bad this morning if you didn’t knew it.” 

_That’s nice to hear,_ Lovino wanted to say when Feliciano added: “Then again, he does swallow painkillers like they’re smarties.” A second passed before Feliciano said: “It’s not like he’s taking too much or an overdose or anything! He’s just taken four.” 

“If he’s that bothered by the pain, he shouldn’t work at all,” Lovino said. “He definitely doesn’t belong behind the wheel of a car.” 

“I think so, too. He’ll stay here and keep on helping me and Franci will go out and help you.” 

“Exactly and we’re at the office in a few minutes, anyways. Not that Franci has to wait for us or anything – Is his car at the office?” 

“I think it is. We took mine to get here but … After we –“ 

“It’s not that important,” Lovino interrupted him, who sounded lost in thoughts anyways. “If it isn’t, he’ll just take a company car. It’s his face that does the job after all, not his car.” 

“Yes.” Feliciano snickered. “That’s a good description of Franci. ‘It’s his face that does the job.’” He laughed again

Lovino smiled as well. The corners of his mouth almost reached his ears and felt like they tensed his entire body. Feliciano snorted and something inside of him snapped; the tension broke. 

Lovino burst out laughing, his shoulders trembled and he threw his head back. 

“It is indeed! Because the wits behind this pretty face know exactly how to use it.” Lovino sighed deeply while Feliciano chuckled once more. “Alright, enough time wasted talking, time to get going. Tell him about what we’ll be doing and that he should get going immediately.” 

“I’m on my way!” 

“That’s what I want to hear,” Lovino said and only then realized Feliciano had already hung up. 

“Lovino, is everything alright?” Fabio asked. 

“Of course it is,” he answered with a smirk. “Why do you think I laughed like that, because I’ve lost my mind?” 

“Laughing and crying are both close to each other and common coping mechanisms, after all,” Fabio said. 

“So Dolco doesn’t feel better at all?” Gabriella said and wiped the smirk right off Lovino’s face. “You said he’s bothered by the pain, what exactly does that mean?” 

“Feli said that he seems okay, as if nothing happened.” Lovino swallowed. “He’s just still taking painkillers.” 

Gabriella’s fingers cramped around the wheel and her shoulders lifted stiffly as her entire body tensed up. 

“How many?” 

“Four, nothing dramatic,” Lovino said. “He’s not overdosing, don’t worry about that.” 

“He’s not overdosing yet,” Gabriella said. “It’s four _so far_ , right?” She spat and you knew it wasn’t a question. She knew the answer already, but didn’t want to say it out loud. 

Lovino was fixed onto her, but subconsciously recognized that they were less than a block away from their office. 

Gabriella must have felt the same way. She turned into the right street, but every motion looked mechanical. “I don’t even know if I should go and see him. I don’t know if I can.

I don’t know if I can,” she said. Her voice was breathy. 

Her hands suddenly gripped the wheel again. Her hands shook as her knuckles turned white. Her head hung low. She wasn’t looking at the street. “If three pills aren’t helping, six aren’t going to either,” she sobbed. 

“Take a deep breath,” Fabio said. “We’re almost there. You’ll drive the few meters to the garage and park the car. Then you don’t have to hold back anymore.” 

Gabriella stopped. She took a deep breath through her nose. When she sighed, her fingers around the wheel loosened. 

She looked back onto the road and asked: “Where’s the remote for the garage door?” 

“If I remember right, in the glove compartment,” Fabio said and opened it while Gabriella started again. Fabio pulled out the remote. 

The lattice gate of the underground garage slid up, just high enough that it didn’t scrape their car as they drove inside. 

The dazzling white LED lights Lovino and Feliciano had installed last year did a better job than their dusty yellow predecessors but still couldn’t light every corner. The variations of light and shade made Gabriella look old beyond her years. 

She parked the car and sighed. Her shoulders slowly fell and her hands barely held onto the wheel when her arms sagged. 

Lovino leant forwards to reach out for her but had barely moved when the seatbelt pressed against his body. He quickly turned around and removed it before he hopped to the edge of the seat in one quick motion. 

Gabriella and Fabio had noticed by now so he caught her glance. 

“Listen, Rella, you don’t have to look after everybody. If you want to check up on Dolcetto yourself, then nobody will stop you, but you don’t have to. We’re all just as worried and nobody wants that he harms himself. Feli keeps an eye on him anyways, because of that, and if you think he needs to have a talk about all of this, Feli will do this as well. Because we’re worried about him. And we’re worried about you. So please, look after yourself before it just ends with both of you collapsing.” 

Gabriella looked down. Lovino noticed how her lower lip trembled slightly. 

“Lovino’s right,” Fabio said. “Leave it to us. Trust us.” 

“I just wish he would stop doing shit like this,” Gabriella said. “If he’d stopped pretending he’s fine no matter what, then maybe _I’d_ be fine for once.” 

She threw the car keys on top of the dashboard, unfastened her seatbelt and tore the door open. 

Lovino sighed and looked over to Fabio, but he was getting out of the car as well. So instead he snorted angrily one last time and followed them suit. 

The air reeked of rubber and fuel. The garage felt oppressive anyways due to its lack of natural light but what made Lovino’s skin crawl was that smell. It reminded him of the parking block. 

Gabriella’s and Fabio’s steps echoed loudly in the empty hall. No subordinates’ or company cars to muffle the sound. Only the company car they had come in and their own ones – Gabriella’s Abarth, Fabio’s Maserati, Lovino’s Lamborghini, Feliciano’s Abarth, Dolco’s Alfa and Francesco’s Ferrari. 

Lovino frowned. Ideally, Francesco’s car shouldn’t be here. Realistically, he had had enough time to be here by now. The garage was connected to the office’s staircase and elevator and neither way took longer than half a minute. 

“Lovi?” Gabriella asked. She had opened the door of her car, but had not yet gotten inside. 

He looked at her and then over to the door that led to the staircase and elevator. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I just thought that Franci should already be here.” 

He took one step but froze in place when he heard the elevator zoom. He pricked up his ears. There was no doubt: The elevator was going downstairs. 

Someone else took the stairs and judging from the sound, they always took two steps at once. 

“Don’t stress yourself out – “ The voice was muffled and distorted by the staircase, but it was definitely Francesco’s. 

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. “Now he’s _nuts_! I can’t believe it!” Feliciano said. Before Lovino could properly think about what was going on, the door slammed open and Dolcetto marched into the garage, Feliciano and Francesco on his heels. 

“Dolco!” Feliciano stumbled to a halt. “You’re completely overworking yourself!” 

“I’m not fucking _overworking_ myself, my ass!” Dolcetto shouted without looking back. “I’m fine!” 

“Dolcetto, what are you doing here?” Gabriella stared at him. 

Dolcetto glanced at her and shouted “My work!” without even slowing down. 

“Dolco, just because Lovi – ” Feliciano paused and blinked. He quickly looked around and locked eyes with his brother. “Lovi!” he said, his hands clasped in prayer, and Lovino winced slightly at suddenly being addressed. ”Lovino, tell him this is madness!” he said and stressed his words by pointing at Dolcetto. 

Finally, Lovino found his tongue again. “What’s even going on here?!” 

“I told him and Franci about the change of plans, he asks if he shouldn’t be going as well, I say that we agreed that that’d be great, but that we wouldn’t risk it with the state he’s in – And he takes it as order to walk off!” 

“It’s just bruises!” Dolcetto shouted. “It’s just some fucking bruises and my jaw! How does that keep me from driving a car?!” His arm was lying on top of his car; the entire side of his body was leaning against it. 

“Do the painkillers you took even allow you to drive after taking them?!” Feliciano asked. 

“Do I look like I fucking care?! They didn’t do shit anyways!” 

“How many did you take?!” Gabriella asked. 

The traffic noise coming through the gate and air vents was all one heard. 

He scowled at her. “They are just some fucking over the counter painkillers, they’re harmless.” 

“I don’t care how harmless they are, you tell me how many you took!” Gabriella said. “Four in three hours?! Six?!” 

“How about you mind your own damn business!” he yelled back. 

“It’s my fucking business if you end up in the hospital!” Gabriella threw the door shut and started to walk over to her brother. The sound of her steps merged with the slam of Fabio’s car door as he got out again. “Have you thought about how the painkillers just haven’t kicked in yet? Have you thought about how you could get into a car crash when they do?! Of course you didn’t!” 

“How do you want to know?!” Dolcetto shouted back. “If I tell you that I’m able to do something, then I am! I know myself better than you!” 

He pushed himself away from his car, and reached for the handle of the door. 

“Then why don’t you take care of yourself! Why do you keep pushing yourself to the point of ruining yourself!” 

“Because it’s my life and I’ll decide what I do with it!” Dolcetto flung his door open and brought it between him and Gabriella before she could reach him. “If I fuck something up, it’s my own fault, so no one of you needs to care about me!” 

“If you fuck up, it’s _us_ who have to drive another person to the hospital!” Lovino bellowed. “And who has told you to should get into the car? If you’re your own person, you grow the fuck up right now and take responsibility for ignoring orders!” 

Dolcetto stared at him, taken aback. 

“You heard me! Feliciano told you to stay at the office, why did you come here instead?” 

“He said you wouldn’t want to risk anything with me in my state! If I’m alright, what is the problem?!” 

“That you don’t seem alright at all!” Feliciano said. “Dolco, I’d love to believe you, we’d all love you being fine, but people who are fine don’t munch painkillers and can stand without support!” 

“What are you talking about?! I’ve made it all the way here on my own two fucking legs, didn’t I?! And – “

“You’ve stumbled through the corridor and into the elevator! And right now you’re clinging to your car, too!” 

Dolcetto pushed himself away from his car. For a second, he staggered, but caught himself eventually. He crossed his arms and stood perfectly still as he scowled at Feliciano. 

“Are you reassured now? Can’t stand, my ass! And as if it’d matter, I’m not standing in the fucking car anyways.” 

“Nobody said you’re coming with us yet!” Gabriella said. 

Dolcetto leant in to her over the car door. “Tell me a good reason why I shouldn’t – “

“One?! I can think of five right away!” 

“I’m _fine_ , so I don’t get why all of you think that I’m too fucking handicapped!” 

A sharp whistle cut through the argument. “Because you give us no reason to think you are!” Francesco said after he took his fingers out of his mouth. “You keep telling us that you’re alright, but don’t act like it! If you’d admit that you’re not in good shape, then I would at least believe you that you know you can still handle this. But if you keep pretending you’re not a walking mess, we’ll keep assuming that you’re out of your goddamn mind and not fit for a car chase.” 

Dolcetto had glared at Francesco since he started talking. His shoulders tensed up and his lips pressed into a thin line as he kept breathing through his nose. 

“Exactly!” Lovino said. “We can only sort this out like adults if you’d behave like one!” 

Gabriella sighed. Fabio, who had walked over to her, put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, but then shook her head. He took his hand away. 

“In my honest opinion, I think you should stay here,” Fabio said with his eyes on Dolcetto. “Better safe than sorry, we don’t want to endanger the mission or, more importantly, you.” 

“Do you think I want to do this, do you think I want to fuck this up?!” Dolcetto asked him. “I want that those bastards finally pay for what they did!” 

“Do you think I don’t?!” Lovino said. “Nobody here wants to fuck this up! And that’s exactly why we can’t take any risks – Like you passing out behind the wheel!” 

“You don’t need to be out on the streets to catch them, either!” Feliciano said. “There is still enough work behind the scenes that has to be done! I’ll still need help! You can help here just as much and not risk getting yourself hurt!” 

“If I had wanted to stay at a safe distance, I would have stayed in the office! You can’t expect me that after all what happened to me, that after how far I’ve come, I’ll just sit back and wait for something to happen!” 

“But don’t you think that’s exactly it?!” Gabriella asked. She put her hands on top of the car door and leant in to him. “Don’t you think you’ve taken enough hits already?” 

“I’ll keep going and take some more until can dish out,” Dolcetto said. He looked around one and threw his arms up. “So what now, are you going to let me go now or not?”

Almost everybody sighed. Francesco spoke up immediately after doing so. “You’re not doing yourself a favour by pushing past your limits, Dolcetto.” 

“I never did myself a favour by sitting around and not doing shit. I’ve got here because I’ve pushed myself until I got what I fucking wanted.” Dolcetto already put one foot in his car and wanted to slam the door shut when he noticed Gabriella still holding onto the top. 

“Do you mind?” he snarled. 

Her fingers cramped around the door. “I don’t think you should be doing this.” 

“How good that I’m the one doing it then and not you.” 

She took a deep breath through her nose and held it in for a second before she sighed. “Can you at least tell me how many painkillers you took?” 

Dolcetto’s nose scrunched up, his eyebrows furrowed and he grid his teeth. He gripped the door harder the same second as Gabriella, whose look matched his furious expression now. 

“If you’d just answer me then I wouldn’t have to keep asking.” 

“Four! Just four, are you satisfied now?!” 

Gabriella started to shake her head slightly, before she turned her head away and let go of the door. 

“So you’re letting him go?” Feliciano asked Lovino as Dolcetto got inside of his car. When he was met with an irritated look, he put both hands to his chest and leant slightly back. “I’ve tried to talk sense into him all day, I don’t know what do anymore You’re the one making the decisions now.” 

Lovino clenched his teeth before he made trashing gesture with his arm. “Let him! If he can make such a scene, he can fucking drive! No time to lose now anyways!”   
Fabio and Gabriella stopped their whispered conversation and instead headed for their cars. 

Francesco took his look off Dolcetto and looked at his car instead. “So we’re looking for a yellow Porsche 911er with its wheel on the wrong side.” 

“Exactly,” Lovino and Feliciano replied at the same time. 

“I’ll keep you updated!” Feliciano said before the smile slipped off his face and he threw his arms up. “Earpieces! I wanted to give you earpieces! I completely forgot when Dolcetto rushed off!” 

“I’ve got one in my car,” Fabio said. “I’m sure the others do as well.” 

Francesco knocked at Dolcetto’s car window while Gabriella got inside of hers and Lovino asked Feliciano: “Do you think earpieces are that important?” 

“Well, we have to stay in touch and phones are unhandy and the hands-free kit of a car would be too risky to use for such a mission,” Feliciano explained. “Besides, not everyone of us has a hands free kit.” 

“I’ve got an ear piece!” Gabriella said and held it up. 

“So does Dolcetto,” Francesco said and turned around to unlock and get inside of his own car. 

Dolcetto stuck his head out of his car window and threw Francesco a glare before he turned to Feliciano. “Anything else or can we get going now?” 

Feliciano’s eyes rolled upwards and he squinted slightly. Then he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Dolcetto didn’t answer, instead pulled his head inside. 

Francesco’s “Found it!” was almost drowned out by the sound of the Maserati’s and Alfa Romeo’s engines. Dolcetto wound his car window up while he drove past Feliciano.

Lovino lifted the door of his car up and let himself fall onto the seat before he reached for the glove compartment with a groan. His hand rummaged through the –annoyingly many – contents of the small compartment. 

“Fucking shit,” he growled when he couldn’t find an earpiece and pulled himself up by the wheel for better access and general view. 

His arm almost slipped off the wheel when his elbow accidentally hit the car honk. 

Feliciano, who just lifted the passenger door, jumped at the sound as well and his head hit the door. 

“Ouch!” 

“Feli! Feli, what are you doing?!” 

“I’d thought I’d lend you a hand searching,” Feliciano said, one hand on his head where a bump would soon be. The other reached for the compartment. 

“That’s … You should be already back at the – “ Lovino started when Feliciano said “Found it!” and held a small earpiece in front of his nose. 

Lovino relaxed his facial features a little. “Thank you,” he said when Feliciano dropped it into his hand. 

“You’re welcome,” Feliciano replied with a smile. “And good luck!” 

Now even the last trace of annoyance disappeared from Lovino’s face. “Good luck to you, too. Hold the line back here!” 

“Aye, Aye Sir!” he said and jokingly saluted, before he ducked his head beneath the door and pulled it down. 

A grin flickered across his face and he shouted: “You won’t have to hold for too long, trust me!” 

“I trust you!” Feliciano shouted as Lovino pulled the door shut. 

The garage was empty by now. He flipped the cap over the start button away and pressed it. 

The bull roared. 

* * *

 

“I don't get it,” Sophie said. She picked up one of the muffins and dropped it. 

They were still hot and a little part of the bottom fell off when it hit the table. 

“We did put in baking soda, right?” Maeve asked while she was taking a closer look at the muffins. She sat upright and only slightly bowed over the table as she inspected the muffins.

Soph sat there with slumped shoulders and it seemed like the only thing that kept her upright at all was the hand on which she rested her head. “There is none left, we _must_ have put it in,” Soph mumbled before she put her arm to the table and then her face to her arms. “Uuuuugh.” 

“Then what did we do wrong?” Maeve asked and started to pry a muffin out of its form. Her fingers and hand jerked back when the muffin burnt them, but she kept going until it, tattily looking, laid in front of her. “If we did put in baking soda, they shouldn’t look so … solid.”

“Maybe we didn’t stir the butter right,” Soph said. She had lifted her head enough to rest her chin on her arms. “So there wasn’t enough air in the muffins or something like that.” 

Maeve stared at the muffin and the crumbs around it. Then she got up and opened the cutlery drawer. 

“What are you doing?” Soph asked when she returned to the table with a butter knife. 

“Getting to the bottom of this problem,” Maeve said and cut the Muffin in half. She shoved the pieces apart, one fell over and revealed the inside. A huge chunk in the middle of the muffin looked like short cake dough. Maeve poked at it. “I think that’s raw batter.” 

Soph just wanted to cry. “Great. Can't you catch salmonella from eating raw batter?” 

“Yes. But I don’t know if that applies to batter that technically _is_ baked, since intense heat kills salmonella.” Maeve tapped the actually baked part of the muffin, which caused even more crumbs to come off. 

“Where does salmonella even come from? What business does it have in my batter?” She muttered with her face half pressed into her arm, but the frustration in her voice made it still hearable. 

“I know that salmonella can be found in raw eggs, which is why you shouldn’t be eating raw batter or dough, but I’ve forgot where they come from exactly. Not that I think you wanted to know that anyways.” 

“’Course I do,” Soph joked but Maeve didn’t hear her. 

“Why are you asking, anyways?” She was cutting away the baked parts of the muffin until only the raw part was left. 

It really looked like a little ball of shortcake dough. The silliness of the picture made Soph smile and her body felt a little less tired. 

“Why did you dissect the muffin?” she asked instead and propped her arm onto her elbow to rest her head on her hand again. “Do you want to experiment on it now? See if there are really no salmonella?” 

“Yes, I am going to take that muffin to my secret laboratory now.” Maeve pressed the flat side of the knife down the batter ball, but it hardly left an impression. “You didn’t answer my question, by the way.” 

“What did you ask again?” Soph could still feel the smile on her face. She liked the feeling. 

“Why you’re asking about the entire Salmonella deal in first place. Did you plan on still eating those?” 

Soph didn’t know if she should feel insulted or should have seen it coming. 

“Well, no, I’m now planning to donate them to you for science purposes. They’re all yours to dissect.” Maeve shot her a tired look and Soph grinned. “But I just thought about that _if_ I would bring them to school, I’d poison everyone,” she then added. 

_I wonder if Alby ate the muffins I gave him._

Soph wiped the thought aside. Instead she tried to pick one of the blueberries they had put on top of the muffin. “Do you think they’re Salmonella contaminated as well?” she asked. 

“I don’t think there is any salmonella in there at all. Also, do you want my knife?” Maeve asked. 

“I got this,” Soph said, trying to ignore the disgusting feel of muffin crumbs getting under her fingernails. 

“I see,” Maeve said. “What are we going to do with those now, though?” 

Soph had decided to bite the top off – or what was left of it after her blueberry picking anyways. 

“Honestly? They don’t taste that bad,” Soph said. She turned the muffin in her hand and looked at it. “Should I try the salmonella part, too?” 

“I won’t stop you,” Maeve said. 

Soph took a big bite. It was still warm, but the raw part stuck to her teeth and sat heavily in her stomach once she swallowed it. 

“Okay, too good to throw away, but not good enough for school,” she said. Her tongue ran over her teeth to remove the leftovers. “I think I’m just going to live off of muffins for today.” 

Maeve raised an eye and looked at the other muffins. “Maybe I should try one then, too.” 

“Feel free,” Soph said and shoved the last bit of her muffin into her mouth. “But know that it’s still at your own risk. Now you can't say I didn't warn you.” 

Maeve chuckled and withdrew her hand from the muffins. “Maybe I should overthink this then.” Soph chuckled. "Ah well, sometimes you have to make sacrifices. For science.” She started to free a muffin with the help of her butter knife. “And who knows, maybe they're not as bad as you think. Then you can still bring them to school.” 

Soph's eyes widened and she almost choked. “I should bring half-baked muffins?! Are you nuts? Not only are those half-baked bloody muffins, but you know what kinda fancy stuff the rest will bring!” 

“And?” Maeve finished chewing and put the muffin down. “Those are really a little hard to stomach. Anyways, the others won’t have made this fancy stuff themselves. It’ll be their parents or they’ll have bought it. They won’t expect that you make something like this yourself.” 

“But they will expect that I’ll have made something _edible_ ,” Soph said. “And you wouldn’t call that edible, would you?” 

“It _is_ edible – “ 

“Don’t lie to me. You wouldn’t bring them to school, would you?” She looked straight at Maeve, who returned the stare. 

“Probably not,” Maeve said. Soph felt oddly pleased with the answer. The odd part was probably that she had just wanted to hear that she had failed and sadly, that quickly outweighed the relieved part. 

“Then what do you want to do now?” Maeve said. “Bake another batch?” 

“I want to cry,” Soph answered and Maeve flinched as if someone had poked her with a needle. 

“Hey Soph, they’re not that bad, really,” Maeve said. “And don’t worry about the party tomorrow, you’ll just buy some in the morning.” 

“But I didn’t _want_ to buy any! I wanted to make some myself for once! Just try it and all!” 

“You did try!” Maeve said and put a hand on her shoulder. “Soph, there’s really no need to – “ 

“But I didn’t succeed! Somehow I fucked this up again! No matter what I do, it goes wrong!” She buried her face in her arms again. Mouth wide open, tears wet her sweater. 

“Oh Soph …” Maeve caressed her back gently. “It’s okay. Maybe we really left out the baking soda or something like this.” 

“That doesn’t help!” Soph sobbed. “That’s exactly the kind of idiotic shit I hate so much! It’s always some stupid mistakes nobody else makes!” 

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Maeve said but Soph shook her hand off. 

She couldn’t see Maeve but could picture the insecure, sad look of helplessness on her face. It made her cry harder, but even those sobs barely disturbed the silence. 

She didn’t know how her day could get any worse. 

The door rang. 

She lifted her head and looked to the window. Maeve followed her look and got up to take a look outside. 

_I bet it’s Alby_ , Soph thought. _That’d just be the perfect punchline for the joke I’m in today.  
_

“Oh boy,” Maeve said and looked at Soph, who knew what would follow before Maeve said it. “It’s Alby.” 

Soph’s shoulders managed to drop another centimetre. “Do you think he’ll go away if we wait long enough?”

“Yes.” She looked to the window again. “I don’t think he saw me, either.” She turned to Soph. “I can open the door and tell him you’re sleeping or something, too, if you want to you.” _  
_

“No, please don’t,” Soph said. “It’s bad enough I have to deal with his bullshit, I don’t want to drag you into this as well.” _  
_

“I'd do it for you,” Maeve said. The door rang again. _  
_

Her heart beat faster every second. The strain in her muscles became almost unbearable. 

The thought of opening the door, the thought of Alby waiting for her, the thought of _Alby_ , made her die a slow death. 

_I’m so fucking sick of this feeling. I don’t want this anymore. If this is what I get for doing something stupid once, then maybe I have to do something stupid again make it stop. Fuck it._

“I'm going to answer him,” she said and stood up. 

“I’ll come with you,” Maeve said and Soph felt very thankful for that. She forgot to tell her so however. 

Maybe because when she entered the hallway and saw the front door at the other end, her heart dropped into her boots. 

And from there it leaped right back into her throat when Alby rang a third time. 

_I can’t remember anyone ringing three times. Why are you so persistent? Why can’t you be like normal people and just go away? Why can’t you just go away?  
_

Maeve was looking at the alarm system. 

_If I just had opened the door, the alarm had went off. I bet I would have forgotten that.  
_

_Although there’d be nothing wrong if it went off. Alby_ is _an intruder.  
_

“Let’s ask him first what he wants,” Maeve whispered and only now Soph registered the tiny screen showing Alby. 

The Intercom. She had completely forgotten the Intercom as well. Once more, she was glad to have Maeve at her side. As the brain to her headiness. _  
_

Soph nodded and her finger hovered over the speaking button of the Intercom. After mere moments that felt like hours to her, she pressed it. 

For another neverending second she was afraid that her voice would leave her. When she finally managed to ask “Hello?”, it didn’t sound like her voice. It sounded and _felt_ as if a stranger was speaking. 

“Hello Soph.” The sound of Alby’s voice hit her a like a punch in the face. For some weird reason she had hoped that it wouldn’t be Alby in the end. Even when she had seen him on the little screen. She avoided to look at it right now. 

Silence. She was sweating. Fuck. 

“Hello?” Alby asked again and just now Soph realized it had been her turn to answer. 

Fuck. Bloody bull-fucking-shit. 

“Hello, why are you here?” Maeve asked, but gave Soph an insecure look. Sadly, Soph could only return it. 

Alby waited a moment before he answered. “I just wanted to bring back a lunchbox Soph gave me.” 

_You can keep it, I gift it to you! I can live with one box less if it also means that I can live without you! Have a nice day and piss off!_

Soph looked back at Maeve and cocked an eyebrow. Was it only Soph’s imagination or did she look more _relaxed?_ If yes, then why in the hell? 

“Is everything alright with her?” Soph let out a desperate laugh and immediately covered her mouth. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt like throwing up all the fear. Tears pricked at her eyes. “She answered me just a moment ago, didn’t she?”

Maeve looked at her with eyes wide open and eyebrows arched. Soph’s finger slipped off the button and she took a deep breath once she realized it. 

“Soph, I can just tell him that you’re not well,” she whispered. “That you suddenly had to throw up and all. I’ll just take the box … and find a solution to this.” 

Soph wanted to cry so badly. 

“No, it’s alright,” she said. “Let’s just get through with this. I won’t let you deal with this alone, I told you. I don’t know why this gets to me like that.” 

Alby knocked on the door now. Soph grit her teeth and swallowed all of her tears, she concentrated on dissolving the knot in her stomach. 

She straightened up and pressed the button of the Intercom again. “Hey Alby, are you still there?” 

“Of course I am. Is everything alright with you? Why aren’t you opening the door?” 

_Because I don’t want to see you. And what are you, 30 or 13? Why are you so impatient?_

“My finger just slipped off the Intercom and I didn’t realize it,” she answered. Her voice started to crack. She swallowed and took a deep breath through her nose. 

“Oh, I see,” Alby said. Then he laughed and Soph pulled a face. She had never heard a more grating sound. “Can I do anything for you? Please open the door, Soph. It’s a bit silly to talk like this, isn’t it?” 

Soph accepted reluctantly that she had to open the door, because Alby wouldn’t just slowly dissolve into thin air. Sadly. 

“Yeah, I’ll open the door now.” She put her finger off the button. Then she took a deep breath and snorted. 

“Are you alright, Soph?” Maeve asked again. 

She felt like shaking her head – she didn’t have the energy for more. 

“Yeah,” she said instead. She mobilized her last reserves and pressed the button that opened the door. 

The door made a buzzing noise and after a few seconds, Alby opened it. 

He took a step inside and Soph’s entire mimic slipped into an expression of panic– eye wide open and teeth grid. She ignored Alby’s “Hi” and sprinted over to him. 

Now that he was standing in front of her, he looked taken aback. Soph wanted to lean onto the door frame but he was already too far inside for her to reach it. 

That didn’t help her put on a more relaxed face at all. 

“Is everything alright, Soph? You look like you saw a ghost.” 

_Well yeah, I saw you boogeyman._

He started to smile and let out a “heh” and it had almost made Soph smile. Instead, it only made her more uncomfortable. 

“Hello,” Maeve said and Soph jumped at the vicinity of her voice, but was glad about the distraction. 

“Hello. You’re Soph’s friend, aren’t you? I’ve seen you quite a few times already.” 

“Yes. I’m here to help Soph out today.” 

While he talked with Maeve, she avoided looking at his face and spotted the box in his hand. She immediately saw that it wasn’t empty and her shoulders dropped another three meters. He didn’t even bother to throw them away. 

“That’s very nice of you. If you ever need any help, you know you can ask me.” 

Soph didn’t even realize that he was talking to her at first. 

_You’d help me the most if you just fucked off right now and never show up in my face again._

“I’m fine, today’s just a bad day,” she said and forced herself to look at his face. 

He smiled. And he was way too close. 

The muscles in her arm twitched. She really, really wanted to shove Alby out of her house. She wanted to shove him so hard that he’d fly off the porch and probably landed on his arse. 

_What in the hell is wrong with you?! He did literally nothing! He just wanted to give you back your lunchbox and asked if he could help you! He’s your neighbour, don’t be so fucking rude!  
_

_Then he shall give me my fucking box and piss off! I didn’t ask him to come here! And I told him I don’t want his fucking help and I don’t want him in my fucking house!  
_

She felt as if she had swallowed a stone. Her eyes were teary and it was hard to breathe. 

“Can you give me the box?” Maeve asked Alby. 

“Oh, sure.” He made no move to do so. “I can also come in, you know, then we can close the door. It's been getting really cold lately.”   
_You are already inside, you wanker._

Soph hadn’t had a thought this clear in what felt like a day. She was completely empty, drained of everything. Completely overwhelmed, she was ready to give up. 

Had it not been for that one little spark that suddenly ignited in the emptiness. 

Every move in this stupid, unnerving game of pretended politeness had drained her. It had fed every last piece of her energy to her anxiety and panic. So now she either gave up or turned all of her negative feelings back into energy. 

And anxiety didn’t fuel smiles, that was for sure. 

“I don’t mind the cold,” Soph said. She pointed at the box he was holding. “You can just give me back my box.” 

Instead of giving her the box, Alby looked at her and smiled. As the seconds went by however, the smile was getting cracks. 

Soph wondered if it was due to Alby noticing his idiocy or her face. For what she knew, she could have any kind of expression – from angry over tired to honest to god spooky. 

“Yeah, I guess I don't want to steal any more time from you,” he said and finally handed her the box. Soph knew she ripped it a bit too fast from his hand. 

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Alby asked. 

“Yes. I have to bake muffins now, sorry Alby.” She couldn’t help but look away again. Something about his face made her nervous. 

“Again? Who are you trying to feed with all of those muffins?” Alby asked. “By the way, thank you for the ones you gave me. They were really good.” 

_They weren’t, that’s why I gave them to you.  
_

“I don’t know, but maybe I need to bake less now that you gave some back,” she said and lifted the box with a smile. 

Alby’s embarrassed smile didn’t look embarrassed enough yet for her to gloat, but it was a good start. 

“Yeah, I guess I forgot one in there,” he said. 

Soph distinctly felt the weight of the muffin. She could clearly see it through the transparent box walls. 

_That is by far the worst lie I ever heard and I’ve heard myself tell really shitty ones. Is he taking me for a complete idiot?_

“Thanks anyways, but I’ll have to bake more muffins now nonetheless. Goodbye Alby.” 

Alby didn’t move. Her heart was beating like a drum. He raised his eyebrows and she looked away again. 

_Why are you not leaving?!  
_

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“Soph, I am worried about you.” 

Soph felt as if a giant question mark popped up above her head. 

“What?” she asked but it was more of a whisper. Her head could form no coherent thought other than “What?” 

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday. After you said this …,“ he cleared his throat, “thing.” 

“What thing?” Soph asked. She was too confused even to be repulsed by Alby’s face, let alone to think logical and remember anything. 

Alby pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes. “You know … that thing. You said about me after you gave me the muffins.” 

It finally dawned on Soph that he was talking about her accusation. 

“I was sincerely shocked,” Alby carried on. 

_I sincerely don’t fucking care.  
_

He took a deep breath before he looked over his shoulder and then glanced at Maeve. 

It made Soph uncomfortable and ticked her off at the same time. The feeling this resulted in was a pain in the stomach. _  
_

“Look, Soph, we shouldn’t talk about it like this. Let’s just sit down inside for a few minutes and talk about it.” 

_Would you stop inviting yourself into my house?!  
_

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said but Alby ignored her. Maybe she had been too quiet. 

“Without your friend, too.” He smiled at Maeve. “Just a few minutes.” 

“No can do,” Maeve said. 

“I’m sure – “

“No can do,” Soph repeated. She stared Alby directly into the eyes. She kept doing it, holding her breath without noticing it. 

A frown replaced his smile. 

“Soph, you’re really immature lately,” he said. 

“Maybe,” Soph said. The feeling in her chest slowly tightened. 

“I just offered you my help and you figuratively shut the door into my face!” 

_I’m going to literally shut the door into your face! Piss the fuck off!_

With a gasp, she let out air. “I never asked for your help! You just kept offering it, even when I said no!” 

“There was no need to be so rude, anyways!” 

“I wasn’t rude!” Soph said but regretted it in the same second. 

_Yes, I was rude, but I don’t owe you any fucking politeness._

“Yeah? Compared with before, you’ve never been so impertinent! Especially with what you said yesterday. That was just irresponsible.” 

_You’re irresponsible! You’re! You’re!_

“I only said you were bothering me!” Soph nearly screamed. Alby’s shocked face was probably an appropriate reaction. 

He didn’t keep it on for long. His lips pressed shut and his eyebrows raised, he leant a little closer to Soph. “You made it sound like I’m a pedophile!” he hissed. 

The sound was as if someone had stuck a knife into her ear. She stumbled backwards; luckily, Maeve caught her. With that, she didn’t only stop Soph but also her tears that had threatened to fall. 

Alby, once more shocked, reached out and put a hand on her shoulder: “I’m sorry – “

Soph swatted it off before Maeve could. “Leave.” She straightened herself up. The spot where he had touched her felt like an icky itch. _  
_

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Alby said. 

“I don’t care what you wanted or not! I want that you leave my house!” 

Now she noticed he had taken another step inside while reaching for her. 

“I think Soph spoke very clear,” Maeve said. 

Alby once more glanced at Maeve but threw a long look over his shoulder. 

“Look, Soph,” he said and reached for the door. 

“Don’t you dare close that door unless you’re on the other side of it!” Soph said and reached for his hand already. 

He jumped, but did grab the door. “Soph, I just don’t want that the entire street hears you!” 

“I'll scream the entire street together if I want to!” She put her hand on his and came closer to him. She heard her heart drum in her ears and felt every single drop of blood it pumped through her body. “And now Goodbye Alby!” 

“Soph! Soph, stop throwing a tantrum!” Alby hissed again. 

His hand let go of the door and grabbed hers. 

Soph could not remember how she did it. Or why exactly she had done _this._

But there the box flew. Into Alby's face – who held his eye and stumbled back. The box sprung open on the stone tiles. The muffin popped out and rolled into the grass. 

Maeve shut the door on the scene – physically as well as in Soph's mind. 

Slowly, life was turning into a movie again instead of a slideshow. Her mind started to work again. 

“I threw a lunchbox at him!” was the first thing she screeched. 

“Yes you did,” Maeve said. She smiled. 

Soph stared at her and noticed that she herself was breathing heavily after a few seconds. 

She sighed deeply and choked on thin air when Alby cursed outside at the same time. 

Maeve had cringed as well. 

“The alarm system is turned on, isn’t it?” Soph asked and in the same second walked over to the control panel. 

“We didn’t turn it off at least,” Maeve said. 

“Nope, we didn’t,” Soph said and let out another sigh, this time of relief and with a smile. 

Though she was still listening for other noises from outside, her mind was already occupied with other things. 

_I threw a fucking lunchbox at him – and a muffin, technically. Harry would be proud of me._

Soph couldn’t decide whether or not she liked the last thought.

“I’m sorry I didn’t … I’m sorry I did so little,” Maeve said but Soph was first taken aback, then shook her head and dismissed Maeve with a wave of her hand. 

“You did enough. You stepped in just in the right moments, if you ask me.” Her voice became quieter. “You did so much by stepping in at all and not leaving me alone. That’s more than enough already.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t leave you alone!” Maeve quickly walked over to Soph and wrapped her arms around her. “I’ll have your back, no matter what. That goes without saying. I’m here for you, oh Soph.” 

She started to cry. She didn’t know why, if it was out of fear or relief, but she knew that she cried her eyes out. 

After a minute or two that felt like hours, the worst part was over. She still sobbed every now and then when Maeve asked: “Do you think he’s gone?” 

“I sure hope so.” Goosebumps crawled across her skin when she only thought about Alby waiting silently outside. 

“I don’t see him on the porch camera at least,” Maeve said and Soph relaxed a little again. 

They kept hugging for a while. The wind blew outside. Upstairs, the grandfather clock ticked. 

“That was creepy,” Maeve said into the silence. “Like ... fuck, that was creepy.” 

Her voice was high and almost tear choked. It put tears into Soph’s eyes again as well. 

“I'm so sorry that you had to go through this,” she sobbed and her fingers dug into Maeve’s back. Maeve, in return, firmly pressed her to her chest. 

“No, it’s not your fault! I’m sorry that _you_ had to go through this! I’m okay, really! And proud of you. You did so well, that was awesome.” She hugged Soph tighter and even pressed a soft kiss onto her head. The spot prickled. 

“If you say so,” Soph said. “I shouldn’t have thrown the box at him.” 

“Why? I mean, sure, you should avoid hurting other people. But you also shouldn’t trespass, which he did by ignoring your request to leave.” 

“Does that really count as trespassing?” 

“I mean, I don’t know if it already counts as trespassing from a legal view, but don’t worry about that. I can assure you and anybody else that it was self-defense. Trust me – that bitch had it coming.” 

“But if he goes to the police with that … or tells the neighbours, if one of the neighbours saw that …” 

_If he goes to the police, Harry will find a way to get me out of it. Actually, if I told the boys to do so, whatever scratch I gave him would be the least of his problems._

The thought frightened her.

_If he tries to get back at me, he’ll have to get past them first._

This variant was comforting enough for her to leave it at that. 

“Soph, are you listening to me?” Maeve started her. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah.” Soph rolled her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I just zoned out. Did you say something?” 

“I simply said that it’d be ridiculous of him to report that incident to the police, because the only one who’s going to pay for that would be himself. And about the neighbours:

Anyone who saw that will correctly think that you’re the victim, not the other way around. If anybody’s rep is ruined here, it’s Alby’s.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Soph said. “I should hope you’re right.” 

Maeve took a breath but didn’t answer. Soph was still leaning against her chest and when she closed her eyes, she wanted to never open them again. 

“I’m so tired,” she muttered. 

“What?” 

“I’m so tired,” Soph repeated louder but didn’t move her head. 

“Well, understandable. I think you earnt yourself that nap.” 

Soph snorted once but smiled. 

It didn’t take long for that smile to disappear and for her to rub her head against Maeve’s chest. “I still don’t have cake.” Maeve groaned and Soph giggled at that, partly because Maeve’s chest vibrated from the groan. “And if I sleep now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. If I can even sleep at all tonight and _not_ jump at every noise I hear.” 

“I can still stay here for the night, I told you!” But Soph shook her head and pulled out of the hug. 

“I don’t want that _you_ have to lie here awake and afraid all night, too. Or get into trouble with your parents. They wouldn’t let you stay here.” 

“I don’t care what they say, this is an emergency,” Maeve said. “And what are they going to do? Drag me out of your house?” 

A smile flashed across Soph’s face and faded quickly. “I still don’t want that you get into any unnecessary trouble because of me. Besides, _I_ don’t want to stay here either.” 

“How about you sleep over at my place then?” Maeve offered. 

Soph considered it for a second at the maximum. “Yeah but then … then your parents still have to allow that _and_ I have to actually deal with them. Plus, then I’d have to bake muffins at your place and they’ll be even more less than thrilled about that.” 

Maeve furrowed her eyebrows and gave her an angry look. “We’re gonna buy some bloody muffins before school tomorrow. Problem solved.” 

“But I told Alby I’d bake muffins, I cannot lie,” she joked, but the smile on her face was weak and once said it actually made her feel uncomfortable. 

“Okay, but if you don’t want to stay at my place, what other options do you have?” Maeve asked. 

Soph didn’t have to think for too long. “I can ask Gwen. I’m sure she’ll let me stay for the night _and_ help me bake cake. Two birds with one stone.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Maeve said. “We should call her right away.” 

“We should,” Soph said. “ _I_ should.” She rubbed her eye. “And I should make myself a cup of tea before I fall asleep on the spot.” 

“I’ll take care of the tea and you take care of the call,” said Maeve with a wave of her pointer. 

“Good idea, captain,” Soph said with a smile.   
Goosebumps ran across her skin once she had left the entrance corridor. It felt like a little, cold, relieving shower. 

“Can you Gwen also come and pick you up here? Else I can ask my dad if he can drive us over to her place,” Maeve called from the kitchen after she had asked Soph what kind of tea she wanted. 

“First I’ll have to ask if she has any time for me at all,” Soph replied. She picked up the phone. 

“Are you going to tell her about Alby? Have you told her about him before?” 

“No, I haven’t.” She looked at the phone but hesitated to dial. “I still don’t want to worry her. I’ll just tell her that I need help with the baking and … that today is a ‘Bad Day’ and that I won’t be able to sleep alone at home.” 

“I mean, that’s fair and all … And I’d also understand if you just don’t want to talk about him again, but it’d be safer if she’d knew, you know?” 

Soph put the phone down. “What do you mean by safer?” 

“You know, in case if Alby tries … something. For example, if she comes and gets you and he’s outside as well, Gwen already knows you want nothing to do with him.” 

Soph thought about this. In the meantime, the tea kettle began to whistle in the kitchen. 

“If I told her what Alby did and he’d show up, I think I’d have to worry about her bitchslapping him.” 

“Worry? I would hope for that!” 

Soph snorted. She looked down on the phone again and eventually took it up. 

She listened to the dial tone while she waited for Gwen to pick up. With the other ear, she heard the rattle of cutlery and pots from the kitchen. 

“Hello?” Gwen answered. 

“Hey Gwen.” 

“Hello Sophie. How’s it going?” 

Soph‘s mouth twitched into a smile for a second. “I don’t know how I should answer that.” 

“That’s always a bad sign. What happened? Isn’t baking going the way it’s supposed to?” 

“Yeah. I actually wanted to ask you if I could come over and you’d help me with baking.” 

Gwen laughed. “I can also come over to you, that’s no problem.” 

Soph frowned and wondered for a second if she should be irritated by Gwen’s eagerness. She just had known her for too long. 

“No, I don’t have any ingredients anymore anyways. Also, Gwen …” 

“Yes?” 

“I wanted to ask if I could stay at your place tonight. Today hasn’t been such a great day.” 

“I see.” A short pause in which Gwen’s tone switched from grave back to busy. “Of course you can stay here for the night. We’ll bake some cake, then we’ll eat some cake and then you’ll feel better.” Soph couldn’t help but smile. Her chest bounced a little during her inaudible chuckle. “Does that sound like a plan?” 

“It does. But …” 

_It’s over now, isn’t it? She doesn’t need to –  
_

Soph sighed heavily. _  
_

_Would you finally shut the fuck up and stop playing devil’s advocate? Thank you.  
_

“But …? Does cake not sound like it’d help?” Gwen asked. 

“No, of course not. Cake always helps. I simply … wanted to ask if you could also get me so I won’t have to take the bus.” 

“Sure, no big deal … Thought I wouldn’t go anywhere today anymore, but if you need a cab, the old woman will play cab.” She paused. 

“Thank you,” Soph said. 

“Soph, did something happen? Or are you just having a really bad day?” 

Soph took a deep breath. “I might have thrown a lunchbox at someone,” she said quietly. 


	18. Running Beneath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Italian Sentences in this chapter have been proofread and improved by [uomodelgiappone](https://uomodelgiappone.tumblr.com) on tumblr. I'm very glad for his help, since it helps me to provide you all with an even more authentic reading experience! 
> 
> Enjoy the following chapter!

“You shouldn’t have just driven ahead,” Marco said as Charlie put his sun visor down. The sun slowly reached its zenith, much to his dismay. Up to now, it had at least have the decency to hide behind the high and thick walls of the Vatican.

“Why?” he and Harry asked with one voice.

“Because if you had just turned around, we would have been at the Castel Sant’Angolo in a few minutes and then in the actual city,” Marco said. “Now we have to drive around all of this,” he gestured at the wall that was still prominently running alongside them. “And that’s a nasty bit of road.”

“Well, I was in a bit of a nervous haste, I admit,” Charlie said and glanced at Marco, but he was looking out of the window.

“What do you mean by nasty?” Harry asked.

“If we’re unlucky, someone else’ll be driving there,” Marco said.

“What does that –“ Harry began.

“Why is someone else driving on our road a problem?” Charlie asked.

“Because it’s a one-way road” Marco shot the stammer of the Irish down.

Charlie wished he would have taken sunglasses with him. The glaring sun – not a sentence he would have expected to use in late October – was making his head throb again.

“And that’s the best option we have?” Harry asked.

“It’s the fastest and the one where we don’t risk getting lost in the outskirts of Rome,” Marco said. “There’s almost nothing important here except the Vatican.”

His throbbing head might have been the reason it took him a few moments longer to realize what Marco just had _said_.

“You want me to ghost– “

“Ahead,” Marco emphasized.

Charlie turned to look at him. “ –drive – What?”

“Keep driving ahead!”

Charlie looked at the street again and jerked the wheel around a little.

“That is one narrow road if I see it right,” Charlie said. “If they’re already following us, we’re fucked.”

“I haven’t seen any of them around yet,” Marco said. “Has anybody been following you?”

“As far as I could tell not,” Harry said. “I still wouldn’t risk using a one way street, but I guess we’ll just have to pray that there’s no one coming our way. “

As Charlie drove around the curve, another car was ahead of him.

“Of bloody fucking course,” Harry cursed. “Fuck my arse!”

“Thanks for jinxing it Harry,” Charlie said when the other driver already began to honk.

Marco lowered the window, leant out of it and yelled: “Fuori dai piedi! È importante!”

Charlie’s brain needed a little time to put the pieces together. But at least it still noticed the pieces in real time and the delay in his reactions would be gone, soon, too.

It had to.

_Out of my way! It’s important!  
_

“State andando nella direzione sbagliata!”

_You are driving in the wrong direction!_

“I don’t like this, let’s turn around,” Harry said and Charlie tried to tune out the conversation. He reached for the gear knob.

“Wait Charlie, the other driver is moving,“ Harry said but lapped with Marco.

“Tieni a destra,” he said.

Charlie grabbed the clutch in the same second he looked up with a quiet “Huh?” The other driver had steered to the left.

_Hold right?_

“Right, Charlie!” Marco said and reached for the wheel.

“Drive!” Harry said.

Charlie shook his head.

“Hands off,” he told Marco and changed gear – into reverse. He noticed his mistake and switched back into drive.

The other driver honked. Charlie hit the gas and steered right.

The engine roared, but as much as the noise hurt his ears and worried him, he concentrated on the rest.

The body underneath him, the tires that carried and moved it, steered with the most subtle movement of his hands. His eyes were focused on the cars parked next to him.

There were only centimetres between the Porsche and them.

He relaxed as he had almost finished the curve and didn’t see anyone ahead of him. The last thing he needed right now was to hit the break and send his car swerving.

“Let’s switch places, Harry,” Marco said, unfazed by what had happened. He already climbed over the rear middle console when Charlie threw him a swift but irritated look.

“Why?!” Harry asked.

“Yeah, why?!” Charlie added.

Marco had pulled himself up by the headrests of the front seats. He lifted his legs off the floor and jumped off with a little spin. Charlie heard clearly that he hit the backrest hard and saw in the rear view mirror that he had landed on his side.

“I can do my job better like this,” Marco said. “I don’t have to yell the directions to make sure Charlie hears them, or other driving advice. Scoot over Harry, or better yet, get into the front.” He put one hand on the backrest of Charlie’s seat and leant forwards. “What? What are you waiting for?”

They reached the end of the street where it crossed with another one. “Which way?” Charlie asked.

“Left, Charlie,” Marco said as Harry bristled.

“Nothing, let’s wing this shit,” Harry said and took the same way Marco had come.

Charlie twisted his arm in a position closer to him that was far from comfortable as well as no safe way to hold a clutch.

“You climbing over the console is a great distraction to the – “

Marco put his head next to Charlie’s and the breath on his skin got the _driver_ stuck in his throat. Marco’s fingertips touched his shoulders while he held onto the driver’s seat.

“Kiss my arse Charlie,” Harry said and plopped down on the passenger seat. A strange rumbling came from the footwell when Harry swung his feet into it.

Charlie’s eyes widened and glanced at Harry for a moment.

“What’s that – oh, of course,” Harry said.

“That’s just the case,” Marco said as he pulled it out of the footwell. Charlie switched lanes.

“I hope I didn’t break anything,” he said and reached for the case’s locks.

“There’s nothing to break, it’s just our clothes,” Marco said. “Right!”

Once more, Charlie’s delayed reaction struck. He jerked the wheel around.

The case slipped out of Harry’s hands and hit the clutch with Charlie’s hand on it.

“Ouch! Fuck!” Charlie cursed and pulled his hand away. The nasty hot prickling where the case had hit ran through his arm; Charlie felt like it was going straight to his brain.

He put his hand back to the clutch while his eyes focused on the lane in front of him. The pain grew less.

Harry grabbed the case and with a “I think that thing’s better secured in the footwell!” dropped it back into the footwell.

“Don’t slam it around like that in my poor car,” Charlie said.

“Is your hand alright?” Marco whispered into Charlie’s ear. He ignored how his heart beat a little faster at the soft tone of voice he had never heard before; he focused on the question instead.

Before he could give the first non-delayed answer however, Harry replied:

“I’m not going to smash a hole into the floor. Is your hand okay?”

“No harm done,” Charlie said. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the street.

“Why’s your hand always on the clutch?” Marco asked.

Charlie put his hand back to the wheel. “No good reason, just old habits die hard. My first car was the old Mercedes of my dad he had bought when he became a police officer and decided he needed an appropriate car for his important position. It was appropriate when he bought 500 years ago, by the time I began to drive it, the petrol in its tank was worth more than the heap of scrap I pumped it into.

“So anyways, if you wanted to go far with the Mercedes, you had to switch gears constantly, all you did was gear shifting.”

While the words flowed out of his mouth, his eyes were only focused on the street in front of him. It surprised him in a way that even under such stressful circumstances, he found peace and ease in driving fast.

He wasn’t going to complain about it as he overtook the driver in front of him and went back into his lane moments before he would have collided with the approaching car.

“Your father was a police officer?” Marco said. “Drive a little more to the left. Unless you want your car to kiss the curb.”

The stressful circumstances however did not include Marco’s face being only centimetres away from his. Him, the breath down Charlie’s neck, the touch of his fingers he could feel through the fabric of his hoodie. How close Marco’s lips had to be to his skin …

“Turn into the left street,” Marco said and only now Charlie registered the intersection ahead of them.

He shook his head once more to shake off any irrelevant thoughts – and accidentally collided with Marco’s head.

“I’m sorry! You’re okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, nevermind,” Marco said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be this close.”

“I don’t mind it,” Charlie lied. It didn’t bother him, that much was true, but he paid much more mind to it than he should. As if he had never been close to Marco, or for that matter, anyone he had liked.

He’d just be a goddamn adult about and focus on the actual important things. The surroundings of his car required much more attention than the surroundings of its driver.

Yet it was Harry who noticed: “Wait, isn’t that a one way street again?”

“And? It wasn’t a big deal last time,” Marco said while Charlie tried to catch a glimpse of the signs they had just passed.

“We’re still on the run and as long as that’s the case, I don’t want to find myself in a road again that’s not big enough for two,” Harry said.

Marco pulled his head back. “The other option we would have had was a tunnel, does that sound spacier to you?”

“My point’s still standing,” Harry replied.

“Kids, be nice to each other,” Charlie joked. “I’m with Harry, though.”

Marco stuck his head next to his again. “I’m your driving instructor, if you want to get somewhere on Rome’s street, you’ll have to trust me or we’re going to get our ass run over and caught.”

“Technically, I’m the driver –,” Charlie said when he saw the giant pillars for the second time today. Other pictures from earlier this morning passed his inner eye – and made him draw a conclusion he didn’t like at all.

“So what?” Marco asked but Charlie didn’t bother with it.

“Marco, this is the front of the Vatican.”

“ _So what?_ ”

“Marco, there’s police here everywhere.”

“Do you mean the one that keeps an eye on the visitors? That’s the Vatican police, they’re literally only there for that. Don’t get your panties in a twist, the cops aren’t going out of their way for small stuff like that.”

As they turned around the corner and saw a policeman right at the turnpoint of the street, Charlie wondered if he had pissed off any ancient god this morning.

“So much for that,” Charlie said.

“What did you just say, Marco?” Harry asked.

“That’s new” was Marco’s simple answer.

The policeman had taken notice of them and gestured them to stop. Charlie slowed down without coming to a halt yet.

“Don’t try to speed off to the right,” Marco said, referring to the street next to them. “I haven’t seen any Vargas around, so we better don’t try to sic the police on us before this even started.” He let himself fall onto the backseat.

“I wasn’t going to,” Charlie said. “Right now’s not the time for ACAB.”

He came to a stop and let his window down. The policeman was over fifty at least, his gray and white hair neatly combed back. His skin was dark and seemed almost leathery.

“You aren’t allowed to drive here,” he said in Italian.

“Oh,” was all Charlie’s mouth left while his brain was racking itself for an excuse. “I didn’t know,” he then said in Italian.

“This is a one way street. There was a sign at the beginning of this road,” he said, using the entirety of his arms and hands to gesture. Charlie had to use his entire focus to understand what was being said at all so there was none left to come up with an answer to it.

“A sign?” was thus his first reaction. “I didn’t see it, I’m sorry.” Another thought shot through his head and he went with it.

“We’re tourists, you understand? It’s my first time driving in Italy, I didn’t know,” Charlie said and tried his best to look confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to break any rules.”

The officer had watched him patiently, albeit without a smile. Charlie felt how his fingers cramped around the wheel and relaxed them.

“Well, if you turn around, I’ll let it slide,” he said.

“Of course, Sir, I didn’t want to cause you any trouble. Thank you.” The officer was already leaving when Charlie leant out of the window and asked: “One last question though, can I use this road to turn?” he said and pointed at the street right of them.

Charlie regretted it and not only because Marco said: “Just do it, don’t ask!”

The policeman came back and already shook his head. “You can’t take that road either, it’s a one way street. It’s all one way streets here, you have to turn around.”

“No, no, I didn’t want to drive it, I just want to turn and then go the way I came. Just turn,” Charlie explained. The policeman gave him a sceptical look and Charlie took both of his hands off the wheel.

He first stretched his arm towards the road right to him: “I just want to drive a little up there and then,” he pulled his arm back before he pointed behind him, ”I’ll pull back and drive back.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to drive back there,” the policeman said and pointed the way they had come from.

Charlie left it at that and said: “Alright, thanks for your time.” He closed the window and changed gear.

“What in the hell was that?” Marco asked while Charlie drove back far enough to enter the other road.

“Yeah, what was that?” Harry joined.

“I just didn’t want to get in further trouble,” Charlie said. He drove far enough forwards to be able to back out comfortably. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw the policeman was walking over to him again. “I know from personal experience that police officers can be petty as shit. Before we scold me any further, do we want to remind you that it’s your fault that we’ve got into this situation at all?” He changed into reverse again.

“That never happened here before when I took this route,” Marco said. “I aint’t got nothing to do with bad luck.” The _I was joking_ got stuck in Charlie’s throat when Marco went on: “Police officers aren’t the only petty people here.”

Charlie turned the car around and drove the way they had come from.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” he said under his breath.

He heard and felt Marco sigh.

“So your father really was a cop?” he asked.

This time, Marco didn’t follow up with an invitation to pretend he had forgotten the question.

“Why would I have lied about that?” Charlie said. “I was just talking about my car, anyways, that info wasn’t important. It just slipped out alongside with the rest.”

They had reached the intersection again. Marco breathed in.

“So we’re taking the tunnel now?” he asked. Marco halted.

“It seems like the best way … and the fastest,” he said. “Go for it.”

Marco breathed in once more.

“Hey Marco, you haven’t seen any of the Vargas around yet, have you?” Harry asked. “I’ve been watching out for any suspicious behaviour, but nobody seems to follow or watch us.”

“I haven’t noticed anyone either yet,” Marco said. “But if they’d come for us themselves like they did this morning, I would have noticed. So would you two, _anybody_ would have noticed _those_ cars.”

“What kind of cars?” Harry asked as they drove into the tunnel and the world around them turned black and orange.

Charlie didn’t dare to take his look off the street to express his gratitude that was written in his face. Harry was most likely not going to see it, anyways.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he put his sun visor up. Marco had pulled his face behind his seat while he explained. Charlie was thankful for the distance as he sorted his thoughts and listened to Marco with half an ear.

“Gabriella’s nothing special, it’s an Abarth 595, but that nasty little runt of her brother has gotten himself a special one. It’s an Alfa Romeo 4C in black – what an edgelord, am I right? But just like with him, you’ve gotta keep your head down low if you want to spot it, it’s a very small and flat car.”

Marco thrived. Harry was a saint for changing the topic like to this one so Charlie wouldn’t have to say one more word about his father.

Even more so when Charlie considered how he had practically done the complete opposite last night.

_I owe you one, Harry, one whatever. Drink, punch in the face, you’ll have a free go for that one, mate._

He could finally make out an end to the tunnel. As soothing as the darkness around him had been at first, since it had demanded Charlie’s focus even more than before, it began to make him feel claustrophobic.

“Fabio’s got a Maserati, a normal GranTurismo in silver. Francesco and Lovino are the one’s that’ll inevitably catch your eye. Francesco drives a white, a _white_ Ferrari California. That’s a cabrio. And Lovino’s driving the latest Lamborghini, an Aventador in, ironically, Ferrari red.”

Especially since Marco was going on about who might lurk in the dark.

“Now, if I only had a clue about cars, then I’d be able to make use of that,” Harry said and Charlie imagined that he could hear Marco’s chin dropping to the floor. He snickered.

“I can make use of that, though. And Marco is an eagle eye, so I think we’re good,” Charlie said. “Also, just google the cars, you’ve got time on the passenger seat.”

“Which I don’t like at all,” Harry said. “I’m bloody fucking useless. I couldn’t even help with the policeman. What did you tell him, anyways?”

Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. Hopefully, Marco wasn’t going to ask about his father again. They weren’t going to let him ask.

“Siamo touriste.” Charlie grinned. “We’re tourists. Poor, clueless tourists who were too dumb to read a sign.”

“And he bought that?”

“He did. I mean, my Italian is surely bad enough for me to pass as clueless tourist.”

“Yeah, especially considering your gestures,” Marco said. “I could see it written in his face that you confused the shit out of the guy.”

Charlie’s eyes widened and he felt the blood rush into his cheeks. “What did I say to him? With my hands, I mean.”

“When you point like this with your arm,” Marco stretched his arm out beside Charlie, palm open and fingers together, and he could see it from the corners of his eyes without taking them off the streets, “it basically means ‘Look at this idiot!’”

“My, I sure hope I didn’t accidentally insult some poor soul that was just minding his business down the street,“ Charlie said “But at least I didn’t ask him to fuck me or anything.”

Harry burst into laughter and Charlie felt the breaths of Marco’s snicker on his neck. It made him cringe.

“Oh shit, did I spit on you?” Marco asked.

“No, you just tickled me,” Charlie said. “Don’t worry. And well, I guess I should work on my gestures before I _literally_ invite a cop to screw me over.”

Marco snickered once more.

“Fuck the police,” Harry said and the entire car erupted into laughter. They emerged from the tunnel and the sun hit the windscreen, making it even harder to see anything. His hand shook when he put the sun visor down again.

“I can help you out with Italian gestures if you want to,” Marco said. “I could show you what sign means ‘Fuck me.’”

His voice was lowered to a whisper.

“So that I can avoid it?” Charlie asked. Marco’s breath suddenly felt much closer to his ear, but that could also just be his imagination. He saw the street ahead of him only in tunnel vision while the thoughts raced through his head; just like his heart was racing.

“Yes, as well as understand it,” Marco said. “Maybe you’ll need it soon.”

“Haven’t we been here before?” Harry interrupted them. Charlie shook his head again and quickly stopped himself when he remembered what had happened last time, then looked around.

The house at the corner was one of many you’d find all over Rome at various stages of decay. The massive wall next to it painted a picture in Charlie’s mind that he, despite the hangover and stress this morning, recognized. He had seen it a few days ago, too.

“We’ve just went around in a circle!” he said. “The parking block’s just behind us!”

“That’s why you now take the bridge ahead of you,” Marco said and drew Charlie’s attention back to the wide intersection ahead of him.

Charlie did as he was told. The houses disappeared and made way for the Tiber. He could see a castle from the corner of his eyes. He also saw how Harry stared out of the window at it.

The quietness was accompanied by the soothing sound of his tyres on the ground, his engine smoothly working and the wind rushing over the water. It created a stir in his head.

“Did you just flirt with me?” he asked Marco.

Marco snorted. “What, wasn’t that obvious? I thought I was dropping enough hints for you.”

The choice of words seemed oddly familiar to him. It took him a moment until he realized that he had used them last night and remembered _how_ he had used them. He felt his face burn up and his stomach churn.

“I’m still so sorry,” he said and felt Marco’s breath stop.

“What for?”

“Last night. The entire hint thing was probably the worst thing I said in my entire life … “ Charlie sighed.

“Don’t worry about that, I know you’re sorry,” Marco said. “Turn left once we’re off the bridge and drive along the river. There are safer routes to enter the city. Anyways … “

Charlie couldn’t help but snort.

“What?” Marco asked.

“Nothing. It’s just the switch from … emotional and all to ‘In 200 meters, turn left’ made me laugh,” Charlie said. “I’m sorry.”

He heard Harry snort and then hold his laughter in. He wondered about his taciturnity for a moment, but then waved it aside. He was surely just focused. Nor was the topic of his and Marco’s smalltalk really something Harry could join.

Marco chuckled and Charlie felt the first real touch as Marco pressed his laughing mouth to his shoulder. Charlie’s entire body contracted as the vibrations in his shoulder seemed to spread throughout it as a warm and fuzzy feeling.

“That was hilarious, yeah,” Marco replied after lifting his head. A second went by in silence, then Marco quickly drew a breath in. “I’m sorry, that was weird. I, I shouldn’t confuse you like this when I haven’t yet made my mind up.”

Charlie frowned. “What do you mean by made your mind up? Or being weird.” He slowed down a little and took a look around before he turned left.

He also caught a glimpse at Marco’s face, who stared at the floor with half lidded eyes and drooping corners of the mouth.

“I don’t know, that I’m flirting with you. And that I’m so close to you as if it’s no big deal, when I didn’t tell you yet what I want from you.” Marco’s voice was barely even a whisper as he added: “Or know myself what I want.”

“I don’t mind it,” Charlie said. “And I don’t feel confused or lead on by it, or anything. If you wanna flirt, then do it. I like it, too, and I don’t mind if you hug me or bury your face in my shoulder. I like being this close to you, still. That’s why I fell for you in first place.“ He hit the gas a little harder. The speed made his body lighter, the hyperfocus kicked in again. “I’m happy as long as you’re comfortable around me and I can be close to you. Whether or not you want to give me a chance to be more than friends.”

This street was busier than the ones they had driven on before and Charlie had to slow down.

“And if you’re not comfortable around me, well … Then I guess I still am happy if you are happy. Even if I’m not part of it. I never want to hurt you, Marco, never wanted to. And I was selfish for long enough.”

He didn’t like how his heartbeat didn’t match the one of his engine anymore. The line of cars in front of him came almost to a hold. Charlie put his hand back to the clutch, yet didn’t change the gear.

“Stop saying such things, Charlie,” Marco said. “I said that I like you, didn’t I? I just don’t know what to do with the two of us yet. I’m confusing my fucking self. And having let myself be fucking confused.”

There was a pressure and anger in the last sentence that puzzled Charlie.

“Hey boys, how about we play I spy with my little eye to lighten up the mood a bit?” Harry asked. “I spy with my little eye something that I don’t like”

“Me bathing in self-pity again?” Charlie asked

“Good guess, old pal, but no. It’s a car following us. ”

Charlie’s mind did a 180 and he looked at Harry.

“What?” Marco asked and pulled away from Charlie’s seat. As Charlie took a look into a rear view mirror, he saw half of a van – the other half was covered by Marco’s head who tried to catch a glimpse as well.

“It’s behind that van and it’s just a normal, silver one,” Harry said. He stared outside the window still.

Only now Charlie noticed that Harry’s eyes were fixed onto the wing mirror, where he could see the silver limousine, too. “How did you notice them?” Charlie asked.

“I saw it first before we entered the tunnel, but again only when we were already crossing the bridge. They’re keeping their distance and they’re keen on it.”

The cars in front of them had come to a stop. Great fucking timing.

“I mean, I could also just be paranoid about this, there’s going to be like a thousand people taking the same route as us in a city this big, but better safe than sorry,” Harry said. “Come here and look in the mirror, then you see them.”

Marco slid over the backseat to Harry.

“Charlie, you don’t mind if I’m adjusting your mirror a bit, don’t you?” Marco asked as he already reached for the lever.

“Well, if you can later adjust it back to where it’s now so I can drive safely, sure,” Charlie said. As Marco couldn’t reach it, Harry pushed it around. “Do you see them?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make out the driver?”

“Not really. Fucking hell … Climbing onto your lap won’t help either.”

“I doubt it. I can’t see shit in that mirror either.”

The cars in front of them began to drive again. Charlie switched gears and started as well.

“Well, I guess we can only make the best out of it and stick to our plan,” he said. “Now we’re on the right side of the Tiber to do so, anyways. Let them come at us.”

It would have made Charlie much more comfortable if he wasn’t still stuck in a queue of cars after his statement.

“You’re right,” Harry said. “You’re right and I fucking hate it. We’re the ones tricking them, we’re the ones one step ahead of them, except we’re fucking not. I’m a paranoid piece of shit that had a stupid idea without thinking about what I really got myself into.” Charlie heard the sound of skin on leather but Harry was still staring out of the window when he looked at him.

“I haven’t seen that stopping you before,” Charlie said. “And we want to be followed around, that’s the plan. We’re just the distraction for the others to get away and as long as the Vargas don’t know that, we’re a step ahead of them.”

“Charlie’s right,” Marco said. “And I don’t know why you’re so grumpy, everything worked out well so far.”

“It’s just fucking suicidal bullshit to try and trick your enemies when you don’t even know who your enemies are,” he said. “If I am seeing ghosts everywhere, I’m afraid I’ll miss the real monsters.”

“Well, if the ‘monsters’ are going to show up in the cars Marco described, you’d have to be blind on both eyes to miss them. And we still have Marco to identify the faces we don’t know and to guide us. Doesn’t matter if we don’t see them, as long as we’ve know how to drive in this city, all _they_ are going to see is my rear end when it comes down to it.”

Charlie wished he would have been able to speed away after that last sentence. Instead, he was still stuck in this queue of cars that rolled over the street like a lazy snake.

“Exactly! They’ve might got a little bit of home advantage, but it’s not the first time that I’m in Rome,” Marco said. “I know how to drive in an Italian city, so if the Vargas thought they could pull any tricks, they’ve got a surprise coming.”

“Hopefully so,” Harry buzzed. He rubbed his hand over his face. “The car just turned into another street,” he said. “So I guess I shouldn’t chew that shit over til it makes me vomit.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” Charlie said. “Come on Harry, show some fighting spirits, some leader qualities. Inspire me with confidence.”

For a second, Charlie thought that he had now dropped a brick. Harry, when he wasn’t in the mood for joking, wasn’t very pleasant to be stuck in a car with. Much less so during a chase.

But his answer wasn’t snappy.

“Well, if they’re going to catch us, I’m not going down without a fight either. Before I’m putting my hands up, I’ll strike a blow or two. This Lovino makes my fingers itch badly, anyways.” He pressed his hand against the glove compartment until the knuckles cracked.

“Lovi’s very punchable, but I still prefer Shorty. He’s more fun to pick on – and easier to pick on,” Marco said while he went back to his old seat and Charlie chuckled.

“Now that sounds like the Harry I know,” he said.

“Pull over,” Marco said behind him and Charlie looked at him as Marco stuck his head between the seat again.

“What?”

Marco’s expression was irritated. “Do you want to be stuck here for the next hour?! Pull over to the left, that’s the fast lane!”

“Well, I’d like to know how! It’s just as stuffed there as it is here.”

“It’s not, there were plenty of spaces you could have already used!”

“The ones for ants?! Yeah, I saw them too and I didn’t pull over because that car’s a little longer than a stick is wide!”

Marco’s hand firmly grabbed Charlie’s shoulders. He jumped. “If you’re being such a wuss about it, they don’t need to catch us, they’ll just have to open the car and pluck us out!”

“Alright!” Charlie gave in. “I just wasn’t trying to do the impossible, you know?”

“Tu sei tutto scemo, è impossibile,” Marco said under his breath and snorted.

Possible translations joined the jumbled mess of thoughts in Charlie’s head but he tried to wipe them all aside. He felt a headache coming on again.

“Harry, adjust the wing mirror,” Charlie said. “Before I drive blindly into an accident.”

Harry took the lever and pushed it to the left. “Better?”

“A bit further – no, that’s too far.” His head turned back and forth between Harry and the street.

His hands on the wheel and clutch, his foot switched between brake and gas. His arm began to tremble. He felt like his head was about to explode.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror, I’ll tell you if you have to stop or can go faster,” Marco said.

“I’ll try,” Charlie replied but focused on the mirror. “A little bit up and to the left. Now, just a little more down – “

“Charlie, slower –“

He took his foot off the gas for a moment.

“What the fuck,” Harry whispered but kept fidgeting.

“Stop!” Harry pulled his hand away as if the lever had given him an electroshock. “Perfect!” Charlie sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a second until he remembered what he was doing.

His eyes flew open and a jerk went through all of his limbs.

“Charlie? Charlie, are you alright?” Marco asked.

“Yeah,” he said and swallowed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing happened.” His arm still trembled. “Let’s do this. Harry, look out for who’s coming and what’s ahead of us, too.”

“Got it,” Harry said.

“And you, Marco, you tell me when to pull over now,” Charlie said. “I’ll trust your judgement.”

Marco didn’t answer for a moment. “Honk before you do it,” Marco said. “Make yourself noticed.” He pulled his head back and put it the other side of Charlie’s.

He drove a little closer to the left, one hand on the clutch and foot on the gas.

_You’re going to look, make your own guess and pull over. You’ve overtook in narrow spaces before, this’ll be no problem. Look, guess, pull over. Look, guess, pull over. Look –_

“There’s space after this one,” Harry said.

Charlie’s eyes looked to the wing mirror and spotted the space after the car passing them.

“Use it,” Marco said.

Charlie pulled over, his bumper not a hand’s with away from the car’s in front of him.

He hit the horn as he pulled out. In the rear view mirror, he saw the car behind him brake. As they honked, he didn’t even wince.

His hand had stopped to tremble but his knuckles were white.

The traffic flowed better in this lane, but not fast enough for Charlie to drown his thoughts out.

“See? Told you it would work,” Marco said.

Charlie put both hands to the wheel and relaxed them. “Hm,” was all he managed to say.

“Hey Marco, was that the Angel’s bridge?” Harry asked.

“That? No,” Marco said and snorted. “ _That‘s_ the Angel’s bridge he said as they drove on.

Charlie allowed himself a look at it. For a second, the view silenced all other thoughts in his head.

Framed by two angels each side of the bridge, the massive castle laid at its opposite end. It towered over its surroundings. The angels closest to it looked as tiny as mere humans.

“And when we reach the next bridge, you turn right into the city,” Marco told Charlie.

The overawing castle faded and made space for the mundane reality of the car’s rear end in front of him.

“Are we even in the right lane for this?” Charlie asked. Part of this mundane reality were thoughts rushing from one corner of his mind to another. His headache came back as fast as it had disappeared.

“Of course we are. What do you mean by wrong lane? There haven’t been any cars coming your way _this_ time, or were there?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Charlie said and sighed. “I’m just doubting that this is the lane for turning right.”

“Any lane is the one to turn anywhere. You’re in Italy and the Italians drive like they please. That’s the only rule you’ve got to keep in mind.”

Charlie accepted it with yet another sigh.

_Tu sei tutto scemo, è impossibile._

“You are completely stupid, it’s impossible,” Charlie said. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“Huh?” Marco asked. “Maybe. I don’t know,” he quickly added.

“I’m sorry, I just need to clear my head now,” he said. “Before it bursts.”

Marco’s voice was surprisingly soft when he whispered: “Are you really alright Charlie? After all that happened last night.”

Charlie wondered what Marco meant by _all_ and whether or not Michele maybe told him about his breakdown in their suite.

Then he decided that it didn’t matter.

“I’m fine, trust me,” he said. “I often think too much about things in situations like these. It’s a bad habit, but I can’t help it.”

He saw the next bridge and the streetlight overhead. It turned red by the time they had almost reached the intersection.

The car ahead of them didn’t care about that however. Charlie came to a stop right before the traffic light.

“You could’ve already turned,” Marco said.

“Marco, the car in front of us already ran a red light.”

“And?!”

“ _And?!”_

“Do you wanna go fast or do you want to bother with shit like fucking traffic lights?!

“Marco, if we’re getting into an accident, or, or just block traffic at all, we’re not going anywhere!”

“Jesus _Christ!”_ Harry interrupted them. “Do you want to bother with bloody arguments?! We’re standing, it doesn’t matter if we would or wouldn’t have driven over one damn red light!”

They both kept silent.

Not for long however, as Charlie looked around.

It was a mystery how he, or Marco, hadn’t noticed the car in the lane next to him yet. You didn’t overlook a Ferrari, much less when its white coating blazed in the autumn sun.

And yet, only now he stared at Francesco Belfari’s face, barely half a meter away from him.

“Fuck,” he said. The other two followed his looks. Marco jumped; Charlie heard his legs shuffle on the backseat and felt the vibrations as his head collided with the headrest.

“Ou, fuck,” Marco cursed and asked in the same breath: “Where did that bastard come from?! We’ve been staring behind us all the time, the traffic was so thick that if he’s here, he must have been behind us before! What the fuck?!”

Charlie threw a look at the traffic light, but it was still red. When his look went back to Belfari, the other was letting down his window. He looked at him with a smile on his face. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. He wagged his hand down.

“What?” Charlie whispered.

“What in the hell’s this shit about?!” Marco asked.

“Whatever he wants to tell us, I don’t want to hear it,” Harry said. “Let’s get out of here before him!”

Charlie’s eyes snapped back to the traffic light in the same moment Marco said: “Go!”

This time, he was readily colour blind and ran the yellow light.

He turned to the right. An engine roared from the left, followed by several cars honking.

He saw the Ferrari’s hood from the right corner of his eyes. It didn’t move.

“The fuck!” Harry said.

Charlie looked to his left and only saw a car coming straight ahead at them.

He put the pedal to the metal. His hand on the clutch slipped.

A second later, his engine stalled.

Brakes squeezed. The other car came to a hold.

“This little rat!” Marco yelled. “Come on Charlie, get going!”

Charlie started the car again, shifted the gear and turned into the right street.

Belfari still stood in front of the traffic light. Charlie heard  the cars behind him honk and threw one last look at the Ferarri before he left the intersection.

Belfari’s eyes, still hidden behind the sunglasses, stared at Charlie. His amused smile spread into wide grin.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

“I can’t believe we missed both of them!” Marco ranted into his ear. “Where in the hell did Shorty come from?!”

“There was a transporter on the bridge. He must have been hiding behind it and then decided to make a run for it,” Harry said. “Either that or I was blind.”

“He’s definitely small enough to hide behind another car.”

Charlie threw a look into his rear view mirror. “Not small enough to escape the chaos he caused though, at least it looks like it. If we’re lucky, they knocked themselves out right there and bought us some more time.”

“Oh please universe, take the piss outta them like that. That’d be one of your pranks I could laugh about for once,” Harry said.

“Turn left at the end of the street,” Marco said. He ran one hand through his hair. “Yeah, that’d just be Karma. Especially – What kind of stunt was this?! Dolco must have hit his head too hard this morning – or well, we hit him too hard on the head.” He chuckled. “Still doesn’t explain what that half-assed attempt to ram us was about.”

“Me neither, I’m just happy that I got out of it without a scratch,” Charlie said.

By the time they had reached the end of the street, neither Belfari nor Acerbi were anywhere to be seen.

“Now just follow the street until I tell you otherwise,” Marco said

“Well, there’s not much I can do other than that, unless I want to get lost,” Charlie said.

“Damn right,” Marco said and chuckled.

That was the only sound within the car for the next moments.

The silence drove him insane. He still couldn’t see any of their chasers around, but the picture of Belfari’s grin was etched into his mind.

His fingers tapped onto the wheel.

“Harry?”

“What?”

“Could you turn the radio on? Or put a CD in, I don’t care. This silence is going to drive me nuts, I can’t concentrate on the road like this.”

“Sure thing, mate,” Harry said and rummaged around in the pile of CDs in his door pocket.

“Are you nervous Charlie?” Marco asked.

“Nervous? No, not really. Why are you asking?”

“Because you can’t concentrate, thought it would may be because you’re too worried about our chasers.”

“No, not really,” Charlie said. “Or maybe I am, I don’t know.” He sighed. “I just have a hard time concentrating on just one thing. When I’m driving fast, I’ve got to keep track of all of my surroundings, have to get a feeling for my car … now the only thing I have to keep an eye on is to not drive onto sidewalk. I don’t think about what I’m doing, my thoughts drift off – and that’s a problem because then suddenly I forget about driving altogether and _will_ drive onto the sidewalk.”

“Ah,” Marco said. “I guess that kinda makes sense.”

“I know, I’m weird,” Charlie said. “But I can’t help it.”

“I don’t think you’re weird,” Marco said. “

“I think it’s weird we made it so far without music,” Harry said and slipped a CD into the player.

“Well, there were enough other distractions that kept me awake and on the edge,” Charlie said. The first cords of “Thunder and Lightning” struck. He whistled along when he spotted the white Ferrari behind them. “But I guess if our friends are being such slowcoaches, we’ve got to resort to music.”

Harry laughed and Marco whispered: “You see the church there? When we reach it, turn left.”

“You know what’s surprising?” Charlie asked. “In Italy, ‘That church there’, is an extremely vague description for a place. We could be referring to two entirely different places even from the same point of view because there’s places that have like five churches.”

“But there is only one church there, so you know what I mean,” Marco said.

“Of course.”

Marco snorted. Then Charlie heard him chuckle.

“Fuck man, that’s true, though,” Harry said. “You can’t walk five metres in this city without a century old reminder that Jesus loves you and the Church had too much money from fucking over the poor.”

Charlie and Marco laughed.

“When even the Jesus fanboy says you’ve got too many clubhouses, you should reconsider your priorities,” Charlie said. The intersection was closing in and Charlie could already see the traffic light.

It turned yellow.

“Harry, you’re going to watch out if anyone’s coming from the left side, Marco, you from the right,” Charlie said. “And unless the chance that I’ll get my arse run off is 110 per cent, don’t stop me.”

“Got it!” Harry said.

“Understood,” Marco said, but couldn’t hide his laughter.

The streetlight turned red.

“Left’s alright if you keep going like that.”

Charlie didn’t slow down as he turned into the left road.

Marco dug his fingers into his seat to not be thrown against the car’s wall.

He laughed during it. Charlie felt the car underneath him, its movements deep within his body. He heard Marco’s laughter close in his ear, while Phil Lynotts voice made the boxes vibrate. “Like thunder and lightning, God damn, it's so exciting!”

He hadn’t felt that alive in a very long time.

The cherry on the cake was a look into the rear view mirror: Belfari stopped at the red light.

 

* * *

 

Francesco watched the Porsche run over the red light, but heard nothing this time.

He was thankful for that in a way; the sound of screeching brakes and dying engines really hurt his heart.

Especially when they came from a car that could sound so pretty. Just a few moments prior, Higgins had picked it up a notch to reach the intersection in time and Francesco had enjoyed the roar of the engine.

He enjoyed it even when it meant that they were getting ahead. Maybe because it made something inside of him roar.

He tapped his headset. “Dolco?”

“What?”

“They’ve just turned into the Corso Vittorio. I’m going to follow them as soon as I can, but maybe you can catch up to them before we lose them completely out of sight.”

“Why did you let them out of sight in first place?!”

“Because I’m sure I’ll catch them again in a few moments! No need to risk anything in our position.”

“You’re fucking job is to stay at their side and get them in position, not to keep track of them – and even that you can’t get right! Get your ass behind them Franci! I’ll try to catch them before they reach the Gesù church.”

“Good plan,” Francesco said. Once he was sure the connection had been cut, he added: “There was a red light, Dolco, no need for any risks as I told you.”

He chuckled amused. Of course Dolcetto was right. Of course he had expressed his point in his usual choleric manner, but his point was still valid. They weren’t here to play a game of cat and mouse with them.

The streetlight still showed red, but the avenue in front of him was rather empty and Francesco agreed with the car that honked at him from behind. He shifted into first gear and followed the Porsche.

To be honest, since they didn’t want this to be a simple game of catch, Dolcetto’s stunt hadn’t actually been necessary either. Francesco could have cut off the Porsche if he had just driven the few metres to get his car in front of theirs, but the intersection would have been the completely wrong place for a trap. Too many people to hinder them. Too many witnesses.

He couldn’t get himself to criticize Dolcetto for his stunt, though. He had enjoyed it.

Although he was a little disappointed that they hadn’t taken him up on his invitation to chat, Higgins look as he drove away had been more than enough pay off for him.

It had exceeded panicked; it had been searching. As if he wanted to know what their plan behind all of this was.

Maybe Francesco had imagined it, but in the split second after he had grinned, Higgins eyes had widened.

Who could blame him for it? That one’s hunter enjoyed what he did was a terrifying thought.

He couldn’t immediately spot the Porsche after he turned into the alley.

He engaged the next gear and skipped two cars in his path. Still no sign of the Porsche.

A little ahead of him, the street split. He only saw the Porsche’s rear end disappear behind the next corner.

_Thought you’d have gotten rid of me already?_ , Francesco thought and hit the gas.

While he skipped another few cars, he called Dolcetto again.

“Forget the Gesù church, they just turned right at the Largo Argentina. Seems like they’re headed for the city center.”

“That makes no fucking sense,” Dolcetto replied. “But you can’t expect sense from those idiots.”

“If you’d catch them before they get too far, we might get them to go south,” Francesco said. “Where there’s plenty of good places for a trap.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I’ll tell Feliciano.”

Francesco turned the cogwheel attached to his headset before he pressed the button.

“Feli, give us a good spot near the Capitoline,” Francesco said. “They’re headed for the city centre but hopefully we can change their mind.”

“Uh,” was Feliciano’s first answer. “Give me one second.”

Francesco saw the Porsche turn around the next corner – as expected, headed for the city centre. There were less than 300 metres between them by now, though.

“There are a few places near the Tiber that we could use, but the Via di San Ambrogio looks the most promising,” Feliciano said. “I’ll tell the others to block it from the south, so you can lead them into it from the north.”

“Understood,” Francesco said. “Tell Dolco about it.”

“Of course!” Feliciano answered and Francesco turned the headset off.

He had gotten closer to the Porsche in the last few minutes, though they tried hard to shake him off.

He imagined their faces if he’d just vanish by turning into a side street. It was a shame he wouldn’t get to see them, because the images in his mind were delighting already.

Better than the ones when they had spotted him at the traffic light. Better than Higgins face after the almost accident.

They couldn’t top however the next image that formed in his mind: How they would react to him dis- and reappearing right in front of them.

There was also the risk of losing them and not getting to see anything at all, so Francesco stayed at their heels. They were almost past the district where the Via di San Ambrogio laid in his nav told him, but he had to trust Dolcetto to show up and scare them off the main road in time.

Once they had entered a side street, he could leave the persecution to Dolcetto.

Maybe then he could allow himself to join the others in their roadblock. He’d love to be the first face greeting the three when their trap snapped shut.

It wasn’t granted him. The Porsche still went straight ahead towards the Piazza Venezia and there wasn’t a trace of Dolcetto.

He turned his headset on and switched the channel. “Dolco, you did hear that the new trap was the Via di San Ambrogio near the Tiber, right?”

“Yes, I did. What’s wrong?!”

“That you’re not here and they’re – “

“I’m almost there! Just give me a few more seconds!” Dolcetto cut the connection, but Francesco pushed the button again.

“Come to the Piazza D’Aracoeli.”

“Almost there, as I said!”

“Two more seconds to listen to maybe vital information would have not slowed you down, Dolco,” Francesco said but couldn’t take himself seriously. That they were still headed for the city centre hadn’t mattered anyways and he could understand Dolcetto.

He didn’t think any of the others shared his mindset that _The longer they take, the longer this show can go on._

He saw the street split ahead of him and Dolcetto’s car came from the Via D’Araecoli that crossed it. Dolcetto crossed the left lane and stopped right in front of the right lane, on the tracks of a standing tram.

The Porsche didn’t even seem to notice him, but they had no other route to take anyways. Dolcetto followed them and the roar of his 4C almost drowned out the horn of the tram.

Francesco followed him and while Dolcetto stayed close to their left as the street got wider, he stayed behind the Porsche.

They would most likely head for the Marcello Theatre and try to leave Rome on the Lungoteveres along the Tiber. It would then be easier to force them into the nested neighbourhoods.

They passed the first road leading away from the square. They passed the Via del Teatro di Marcelli leading south.

Francesco cocked an eyebrow but shrugged.

They drove on, Dolcetto still next to them and Francesco still behind them.

They passed the first road leading to the Piazza Venezia. They passed the second one.

They were probably just going to head back, attempting to get rid of their chasers.

As if to prove Francesco’s thought, the Porsche suddenly hit the gas – and then sped past the street they had come from.

By the time they had reached the Via del Teatro di Marcello, Dolcetto was next to them again. Francesco even believed that he was a little too close this time. But the Porsche just swerved onto the luckily empty crosswalk before he let its engine roar and switched into Dolcetto’s lane in front of him.

This time, they turned into the street headed for the Piazza Venezia.

Francesco saw Dolcetto disappear into a street around the Piazza San Marco a little further and had his voice in his ear a moment later.

“What in the fuck was this?!” he asked. “That made no sense!”

“My best guess is that they’re trying to shake us off,” Francesco said. “And if I’m honest, I’ve got as much of an idea as you.”

“Fucking great. North or south?”

Francesco threw a look at his nav before he tried to recall a map of Rome in his mind, which was a fairly easy task with such an important and central point as basis.

“North,” he said. “West north, at best.”

“Really?”

“South from here there’s only the Foro and after that there are not many opportunities for us.”

“Alright, then north.”

“Can you tell Feli this time? I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“Fine.”

Once the connection was lost, Francesco muttered “I am so sorry Feli” before he switched the channel.

He was still closely behind the Porsche, who luckily didn’t head south towards the Colosseo, but instead followed the street around the Piazza Venezia. It wasn’t unlikely, though, that they would just play merry go round like they had before.

Play around and then head further out of the Italian’s influence.

In plain sight, that was. In plain sight as they presented themselves to their chasers now, something that went contrary to the belief the Italian’s plan had been built on.

So far it had only lead to a not so merry round of roundabout merry go round, but Francesco was sure it wouldn’t be left at that.

To tell Lovino right now that his plan wasn’t working was only guaranteeing the loss of Francesco’s hearing and Lovino’s last shred of sanity. Latter was also only hanging on by a thread when it came to Feliciano, so he wasn’t about to inform him either and cause him yet another mental breakdown over the entire affair.

The Porsche passed up all three streets that would lead them north, east, or west.

“You keep that up and my head ends up spinning, too,” Francesco remarked to himself.

He needed someone who wouldn’t forget about it once it posed an actual threat, but wasn’t going to lose his mind over it right now when focus was needed.

He pressed the button. “Fabio, we’ve just noticed that we haven’t thought of something.”

“What’s the matter?” Fabio answered.

“They’re acting absolutely unpredictable.”

“Define unpredictable.” There was a strain on Fabio’s voice. Francesco couldn’t recognize him for a split second.

“Instead of trying to get rid of us and fall back onto small streets, they drive merrily on in plain sight. They barely seem to mind us.”

He heard Fabio take a deep breath. He let out an equally deep sigh.

“Maybe they’re trying to shake us off here in the city centre before they head towards the next highway,” Francesco said.

“Maybe. It’s a strategy, I mean,” Fabio replied.

They passed the street leading back to the Piazza D’Aracoeli. They skipped out on the Via dei Fori Imperiali as well and although Francesco had already suspected it, he was still relieved.

“They’re probably heading north,” Francesco said. “Feliciano already knows and we’re trying to catch them there.”

“Understood.” The Porsche went straight ahead and left the roundabout. Dolcetto kept close to their right side, but they still didn’t seem to mind it too much. “Any other concerning things?”

The connection was cut off by Dolcetto: “New trap’s at the Via dei Leutari.”

Francesco could barely hear him over the roar of the Porsche.

“Not yet,” he answered Fabio and hit the gas.

Neither of them could catch up to the Porsche though before he disappeared into the Via del Corso.

Francesco switched back to Dolcetto’s channel and when he put his fingers to the wheel again, he felt as if electricity ran through them.

Dolcetto was ahead of him without blocking the view onto their target.

Francesco was aware of every single muscle and sine in his hand as he used to other one to press the headset. “We should get in front of them again before they head for the Lungoteveres again or out of the city.”

“At it,” Dolcetto replied. “I’ll head towards the Montecitoro and then back onto the street.”

He saw Dolcetto steer towards the left. There was even less space between him and the cars of the opposite lane now.

The blue sky had become a blue line trapped against the skylines of the houses. Francesco had his eyes fixed onto the Porsche who made no move to slow down and he wondered if they tried to escape this strait. It would explain why they hadn’t tried any shortcuts so far either.

Dolcetto turned into the street left of them and Francesco wasted no seconds to fill the gap he left.

They drove ahead and Francesco wondered if they were headed for the Piazza del Popolo, which made no sense strategically but would fit right into their shenanigans. Maybe Higgins just really had a thing for roundabouts.

He snorted about the thought, but wondered what to do if that wasn’t the case. If they just kept heading north on Rome’s big streets until they reached one of the highways surrounding the city.

Their best but at the same time riskiest bet to catch the three then was to hope they’d have to stop at one of the toll stations before they could leave the city.

For that plan to work in first place, the Porsche would need to be unlucky enough to be controlled at all. Even if they’d then have enough time to catch up with them and get out of the car, there was no lie convincing enough to keep the three from leaving Rome without having to hand their possible hostages, and maybe even the painting, over to the Police.

To grease the Police in broad daylight was also an idea where the cons outweighed the pros. There was a good chance that Francesco, Dolcetto or both then would end up in handcuffs together with the three instead of being the ones to handcuff _them_.

The Porsche slowed down before he turned into the street left of them. Francesco followed their example and hit the gas again a moment later.

Francesco pressed his headset: “They’re coming your way.”

“What do you –“ Dolcetto cut himself off: “Great.”

He saw the front of Dolcetto’s car appear from the Via dei Bergamaschi the second the Porsche passed the street.

To close behind them, Francesco didn’t allow himself to slow down and let Dolcetto out either.

As he pressed his headset again, he heard Dolcetto curse:

“Fucking bullshit!”

“I know,” Francesco said. “I think they’re heading for the Lungotevere again, maybe you should try and catch them there.”

“And if they aren’t, I’m going to waste my time there. I’m saying we won’t even let them reach the Lungotevere. The Via dei Leutari is still south of here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Francesco noticed the obelisk in front of the Palazzo Montecitoro, stretching towards the sky. The palace was most likely empty, at least devoid of any important politicians. No one to hear the sound of their race and question what it meant. The palace was just an empty symbol of power.

The thought amused Francesco.

“Fine by me,” he said as he followed the Porsche around the corner and left the palace behind him along with the blue sky. “I’ll tell you if they change their direction.”

“Fine.”

He was left alone with his thoughts again, caught between Rome’s high buildings. While not perfect due to its proximity to public places, such as the Montecitero and the Pantheon, it was exactly the kind of street they needed for an ambush – narrow.

Eyes fixed onto the Porsche, another image began to build up in his mind.

If he really wanted, he’d be able to get next to them. So far the streets still allowed it and Francesco thought of himself as a driver good enough to handle a little more speed during a curve than Higgins did.

Of course, he could also execute his plan from behind or in front of them, but the chance of actually hitting the tyre grew bigger the closer he’d be to them.

Francesco hadn’t paid any attention to the secret pocket of his glove compartment when he had looked for the headset earlier, but it didn’t matter.

He still had a knife strong enough to do the job on his body, even if a ballistic knife was preferable.

Of course, one flat tyre wasn’t enough to make a car break down on its own. It was enough to make a car swerve, the more the faster the car moved. That’s why Francesco would let himself fall behind or speed off as soon as he had thrown the knife. He’d give the Porsche more room like that, but he’d chose an alley that was still narrow enough that Francesco hadn’t have to risk his car. Instead, the Porsche would either drift around so far they’d trap himself between the houses – or simply crash into a wall.

Francesco would stop and block one side of the road, just to be sure. He’d call Dolcetto to call for back up and get out of the car.

While an actual crash would only have downsides, with all the ruckus and damage it caused, Francesco hoped for one. One just hard enough that they wouldn’t be able to move immediately, paralyzed and disoriented for a few moments.

Coming back to their senses when he would be standing next to their car. Realisation would dawn on them as he’d look down on them with a smile.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into trouble. Let me give you a hand and help you out.”

Disbelief, anger, fear, shock and resignation. The image how all these emotions flashed over the faces of Higgins, Bontade and O’Connel before they’d settle for one was more beautiful than any masterpiece of art would ever be.

_Don’t forget the painting. We’re not here for your own personal amusement.  
_

_It’s enough and you know it._

Francesco negotiated the next curve a little too fast. Once he realized they had just turned into a parking lot, his heartrate spiked once more.

_This isn’t the right place for it.  
_

He put a finger to his headset, but before the first word even left his mouth, the Porsche had already started to turn around.

The parking lot was rather empty. His Ferrari would never be big enough to block the way.

Instead he began to turn around. Like this, he could at least block the way north.

The Porsche was faster by mere seconds. They passed Francesco just when he had brought himself into position.

He could see their faces and for a moment, made eye contact with Bontade.

He grinned at Francesco.

_Rascals_ , Francesco thought with a smile once the moment was over.

“What?” Dolcetto interrupted his thoughts. Francesco realised his finger was still on the button. “What happened?!”

“Nothing,” Francesco said and hit the gas. “Already done.”

He used one of the empty parking lots to drive past them. He didn’t look at them this time.

“What’s already –“

“Nothing of importance.” Francesco drove far on the left side, only to turn the wheel around and placed himself across the whole street.

The Porsche hit the breaks before it turned into left street.

“They’re on the Corso around the Piazza Navona again,” he told Dolcetto before he turned around and followed them.

Dolcetto didn’t answer. Francesco was sure that their talk had cost him enough energy and nerves already. He was still sleep deprived as they all were and injured on top of that.

Nothing to laugh about anymore because of the twin that had grinned so cheerily at him.

He turned into the Corso di Rinascimento and recognized the setting immediately. This time he was closer to the Porsche however and wasn’t going to lose sight of it for even one second.

Francesco had had his fun. More importantly, they had had their fun.

They’ve had it all damn weekend, now it was their turn. Not Francesco’s alone: Dolcetto deserved his revenge. Feliciano deserved a moment of peace. Lovino deserved to have his nerves patched. Fabio deserved to drop some weight of his shoulders.

Gabriella deserved her painting back.

He remembered their talk last night. How _he_ had told her to use her anger to catch the felons.

She had been determined and focused from the start and how did he repay it to her? By slacking off and entertaining himself with daydreams how he’d save the day once things went even worse.

They turned into the Via dei Canestrari. The Via dei Leutari was only a few hundred metres ahead of them.

If he’d only manage to get ahead of them, he could end it within the next few minutes.

He hit the gas in the second the Porsche turned into the Piazza Navona.

“Higgins, did your daddy never take you to the Carnival?” Francesco said before he pressed the headset.

“They’re at the Piazza Navona right now,” Francesco said. “I’ll make sure they’re not going to leave it northwards or southwards. Can you try to be at the Governo Vecchio to block the way?”

“I’ll be there,” Dolcetto answered. “Party’s over for these fuckers.”

“That’s the spirit,” Francesco said. As he pulled up next to the Porsche, there was a smile on his lips again. As he threw them a look, he saw that he wasn’t the only one.

The thought of how they’d soon laugh out of the other side of their faces amused him.

The thought of how his friends would be able to smile again once the joy was wiped out of the faces of those three was what made him grin contently. 

 

* * *

 

Michele felt as if he was driving home a pair of wasted people after a party.

The first thing Paddy had done once they rented the car had been opening the driver’s door instead.

“I thought we had agreed on that I drive,” Michele had said. “Or are you holding the door open for me like a gentleman?”

Paddy had smiled at that comment and replied: “Now I am. After you, Sir.”

Michele, although he had been surprised by it at first, couldn’t have helped his grin either.

Once Paddy had settled into the right seat, he had asked Lorenzo if he could push his chair all the way back.

“Sure, suit yourself,” Lorenzo had said while he had went to lie down all across the backseat.

So now Paddy was stretching his legs as far as he could without bending them and yet, he still had to slide down his seat so his head wouldn’t constantly collide with the car roof.

Lorenzo was using the suitcase, alongside with the hood of his pullover, as pillow substitute.

“You’re alright back there?” Paddy asked him.

“Couldn’t be alrighter,” Lorenzo answered. His absent tone reminded Michele of the scene from the café. They hadn’t spoken about it yet.

“I’m just saying that if we’d hit the brakes a wee bit too hard, you’ll be sent flying like this.”

“I can handle a bit of rough driving, don’t worry about me.” Lorenzo sat up a little and took a look at Paddy. “Are you sure that _you’re_ alright?”

“As alright as I can be in this car,” Paddy replied. “It’s got surprisingly much legroom for such a small car.”

“Not trying to be rude, but I think every car has surprisingly much legroom when one pushes back the seat all the way to the stop,” Michele said.

“You’d be surprised how many cars don’t allow you to push back more than a few centimetres,” Paddy said.

Michele bit back the comment that a few centimetres were usually enough for most people and turned around a corner.

“You haven’t put a seatbelt on,” Paddy muttered.

Lorenzo had still caught it. “Would you be happier if I put on all three?”

“That way, you’d only strangle yourself when Michele’s negotiating corners,” Paddy said. “Or drives in general.” Michele frowned while he sighed. “I’m sorry for nagging, I’ll stop it.”

“I’d be grateful for that,” Michele said. “Even if I don’t know what you mean by ‘Drives in general’.”

“That was just a comment on your driving style,” Paddy replied.

“Michele is an excellent driver,” Lorenzo said. “You’ll see, nothing will happen to me, so calm your tits, Paddy.”

“I am calming them, alright,” Paddy buzzed and Michele smiled.

“To kiss up to me won’t get you any bonus points,” he said. After he took a quick look around and turned into another street, he carried on in Italian: ”Because don't you think that I forgot that I wanted to have a word with you about the entire thing between you and Marco.”

No reaction. Michele looked into the rear view mirror but wasn’t able to see Lorenzo’s face.

“Lorenzo please, don’t be childish. I just want to talk about a few things I’m not sure I’ve understood completely yet.”

“Then tell me what you haven’t understood yet. I already said everything I wanted to say,” Lorenzo said.

Michele supressed a sigh. “I don’t really understood why exactly you dislike Charlie so much now,” he said.

He glanced at Paddy and their looks met. Quickly, Michele looked at the right wing mirror instead.

He had expected Paddy to prick his ears when he heard Charlie’s name, even if he couldn’t understand anything else, but had still hoped he wouldn’t hear it.

Michele ignored the incident and focused on Lorenzo.

“Already said why,” Lorenzo said. “Thought that part was very clear.”

“It wasn’t easy to follow the two of you with how fast you yelled at each other,” Michele said. He passed took a look around the intersection as he passed it, but spotted neither a familiar face nor any suspicious behaviour. “So would you be so kind and repeat it for me?”

“He’s a flirting good-for-nothing and he’s only going to break Marco’s heart if he’s stupid enough to buy his stick.”

“Alright, I do remember that part. What I don’t understand is why you think he’s a good-for-nothing heartbreaker. Either the two of us aren’t talking about the same person or you know something about Charlie that I don’t.”

Michele felt the name burn on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t _want_ to look at Paddy.

“Didn’t you notice how he flirted with me? The first few weeks we worked together, he didn’t pass a chance to pour the charm on around either of us. But Marco has two nice chats with him and suddenly it’s only Marco he’s interested in and of course suddenly it’s _love_ and not just another notch in his bedpost.”

Michele looked at him over his shoulder before he turned into a smaller street.

“Are you really that dense?” he asked.

For the first time, Lorenzo stirred. Michele could spot the top of his head in the rear view mirror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Look, I just think it’s strange that you see what’s happening, but aren’t _aware_ of what’s happening. Really, just put two and two together. Charlie was interested in the two of you before he got to properly know you; you blocked his attempts while Marco let him in. They have shared interests, they got to know each other better. Charlie realized that he liked Marco for more than his looks and Marco realized that he likes Charlie for who he is beyond silly jokes and small talk. That’s it, that’s how people fall in love. You can have a physical crush on someone or be drawn to them because of their attitude, but you’ve got to scrape a little deeper to truly like someone. That’s why Charlie has it for Marco – because he got to know him better. He didn’t just pick Marco out of the two of you because Marco didn’t brush him off and Charlie though that it made him easier to bed. He likes Marco because Marco allowed him to.”

Michele cleared his throat. “Of course – “

“Maybe you all think so, but if Charlie really liked him, he wouldn’t go around and flirt with other people like it’s nobody’s business! He treats Marco just like any other guy that catches his wandering eye! I thought Marco knew that, but Charlie’s got him wrapped around his finger by now. Love makes blind, I guess, pah!”

“Before we take this any further, I want to say that I can’t speak on Marco’s or Charlie’s behalf here. So maybe you’re right, maybe against all odds, Charlie’s just a cunning Casanova,” Michele sent a little prayer towards heaven that Paddy really couldn’t understand more than Charlie’s name, “and Marco’s just one of many. Then my question is how you think Charlie treats all those guys, including Marco, that catches his eye.”

“You’re the one who’s asking me if he’s dense? Charlie goes and dishes out compliments to anyone who wants to hear them! And to those who don’t want to hear them, too!”

“He does like to go around and give sweet talk to people,” Michele said. “I suppose I really haven’t noticed it before.”

“I wonder how, you would have been blind on both eyes and deaf on both ears to not have noticed it. He even flirted with you!”

“And I flirted back. You know, I just always assumed he’s got a little bit of southern temper. Or do you suddenly dislike flirting like there’s no tomorrow? Wasn’t it you who was so miffed about the entire curfew because he wanted to chat up people so badly?”

“That’s something entirely different! I and Marco just wanted to have fun and fool around with some strangers we’d never see again! And I _didn’t_ promise one man the stars and then go around, telling other people I’d fetch them the moon!”

“Alright then, I suppose I’m never allowed appreciate anyone ever again as long as I’m together with Harry.”

“What?!” Michele negotiated a curve and he heard the sound of someone digging into the padding of the seats. “No! That’s not what I said, Michele!”

“That’s how I understood what you said, though! I know what you mean, that Charlie’s too flirtatious to be serious, but I don’t see how Charlie’s any different from us.”

“How can you assume that he’s like us? We’ve known him for three months, tops, he could just be a freaking harlot!”

“Or he couldn’t be! You’re right, we’ve known him for three months – we all did! So what makes you think your opinion of him is right and ours, mine and Marco’s, isn’t?!”

“Because I’m –“ Lorenzo took a deep breath. “Because …” Michele only heard a couple of angry sighs from the backseat.

Michele felt as if the street would be going on forever, though he knew that wasn’t the case. It was hard to shake the feeling off, still, when he was greeted by yet another corner and no end of the houses in sight.

“Hey, Michele, Lorenzo, I really don’t want to be rude,” Paddy said and Michele dared to look at him again. Once more, their looks met. “I’ll probably be anyways, but not on intention. It’s just really weird to listen to an entire conversation and don’t understand one word that’s being said.”

_Please let that be the truth,_ Michele thought.

“If it’s none of my business and nothing that affects me, fine, then it’s none of my business. Then there’s no need to talk English.”

“Don’t worry Paddy, it’s nothing of importance,” Lorenzo said.

“We’re not keeping anything a secret from you,” Michele said. “It’s just the family matters from before. Completely unrelated to our mission.”

“I see,” Paddy replied. “I didn’t want to butt into that.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Michele said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I thought I had heard Charlie’s name, that was what confused me.”

Michele’s eyes were pinned to the road as he finally turned into another one.

He didn’t feel caged by the road anymore; that wasn’t to say that the feeling left.

_Seems like you understood one word after all, you bastard_.

Michele bit the comment back. It hadn’t been his own voice and he wouldn’t allow these words to be uttered in his.

“Sounds like you have been eavesdropping,” he said instead.

“It was pretty hard to not listen to you,” Paddy said. “Not that I understood anything beyond Charlie – if I even got that right.”

Michele sighed and looked into the rear view mirror. Lorenzo’s face had vanished however.

“You did, no reason to deny that.”

Paddy sighed.

“I suppose you want to know now what we were talking about,” Michele said.

“I don’t know, you tell me if I want to or not. I’ll just tell you that I don’t want anyone to talk bad about him behind his back. Or about any of us, because that’s just low and we’ve had our fair share of it.”

“We would never do such a thing!” Michele said and tried to forget all of the snide or aggressive comments he had thought about Paddy that now came back to bite him in the ass. _I never talked bad about you, I just had my own thoughts on the matter.  
_

_I hope the same applies to you.  
_

“It’s low and beyond insulting to do, especially when it’s about people close to you. I admit, it stings a little hear that you think we’d do such a thing”, he carried on.

“I wasn’t saying you did, I’m sorry if it came off that way. I just wanted to tell you that this is the only time I think I have to get involved in other people’s affairs. If you didn’t insult Charlie, then I don’t know if I need to hear what you said at all. I don’t want to pry into anything that doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Michele didn’t say anything.

He wondered how often the Irish _asked_ him to pry into their affairs. When it came to business, he was undeniably the backbone of the trio. When either of the other two lost their head in the heat of battle, it had been Paddy who had held them back or spurred them into action. Michele still hadn’t shaken off the feeling that Paddy was the one who pulled all the strings in the background.

There wasn’t a major decision that Harry made without conferring with the others and Paddy’s opinion was valued.

It wouldn’t come off as surprise if they also valued his opinion in private life. From what he had gathered so far, Harry and Charlie had known Paddy for a very long time.

He knew that Paddy knew about Charlie’s crush, but had no idea if he also knew the true scale of it or the drama it had resulted in last night.

Michele wasn’t going to be a telltale. “It’s about Charlie and Marco.”

Paddy sighed once more. “I see.” He lowered his voice before he carried on. “I heard Charlie made quite the mess last night.”

So he knew. Michele was pretty sure that Charlie must have told him earlier this morning when they had split up. “That’s one way to put it. Did he tell you about it?”

“Yes. Not in detail, but I’ve got the gist of it. He also said he’d clean up the mess he made and talk with Marco. I thought he did, or am I mistaken?”

“Oh yes, they did talk with each other. Marco seemed quite content with it, too.”

Michele couldn’t remember if he had ever talked about anything personal with Paddy. Sure, it wasn’t their own personal lives they talked about, but it wasn’t business or trifles like “When’s breakfast?” either.

_I just want us on good terms private-wise as long as you kiss my boy_.

Michele remembered their other talk from this morning. He shouldn’t worry so much.

Other details of the talk came to him. The hidden insistence in his words. The way he had looked at him. Pictures from the café dwelled up again.

_If_ you _want us on good terms, take the first step and stop looking at me as if I’m a criminal on probation._

“Ah, that’s good to hear,” Paddy said and interrupted Michele’s thoughts. As he glanced at him, he spotted a smile on Paddy’s lips.

Lorenzo mumbled something in the backseat.

He still hadn’t answered Michele’s question.

“I thought so, too. But Marco and Lorenzo are … divided on the subject of Charlie,” Michele said.

He threw a look over his shoulder to see if Lorenzo showed any reaction. He just stared at the ceiling.

“Ah. So that was what the ruckus in the Café had been about.” Paddy looked at Michele. “I assume.”

“Yes, that was what the ruckus was about …” Michele said. They reached a small roundabout encircling a square. Apartment blocks towered over it.

Michele paid attention to some people resting on benches on the square, but put his foot down firmer before he turned into a street right of them.

After he had taken a look into the rear view mirror to ensure that nobody followed them still, he directed his attention back to Lorenzo.

“You’ve had some time to sort your thoughts,” Michele said in Italian. “Can you answer my question now?”

Silence. Muffled, Lorenzo answered: “What question?”

“What makes you so sure that Charlie’s the liar and heartbreaker you make him out to be?”

Michele turned right. Slowly, even the suburbs seemed to become awake. He spotted people entering or leaving their houses whenever a fence allowed a look beneath the walls that surrounded the houses. Michele regarded anyone sitting in their car with scrutinizing look, but almost any car that followed them parked at the sidewalk.

“Because I just am,” Lorenzo said. “Can’t we agree to disagree? Being divided on a topic is nothing bad, it’s healthy to have arguments.”

“Don’t you twist my every word now,” Michele said. “To agree to disagree you have to respect the other’s opinion. Not even that, you don’t have to respect it, but you have to accept that they won’t change their mind. And do you know why it’s healthy to have arguments? Because then you can reach an agreement and resolve a problem! It’s not healthy to ignore a problem and sulk about it instead of finding solutions!”

Michele briefly remembered his argument with Harry in the morning but shook it off. They had resolved theirs.

“Alright! Why don’t you give me some more time to think about what I did and talk to Paddy, before he’s going nuts over not understanding our every word.”

Michele looked over his shoulder and saw how Lorenzo turned his head around to stare at the backrest.

“You know Patrick, the problem is that Lorenzo’s not happy with his brother’s decisions,” Michele said. He could hear the sudden shift of weight on the backseat when Lorenzo sat up.

Paddy frowned and looked at Michele. “About Marco’s decisions when it comes to Charlie?”

“Exactly. You know, Charlie’s feelings for Marco turn out to be mutual – “

There was a light ‘thump’ from the backseat and both Michele and Paddy turned around to see what made the sound.

Lorenzo had dropped into the foot well and now stuck his head between the front seats.

He looked at Michele with eyes wide open, but eyebrows furrowed. Michele looked back at the street to turn right once more and supressed a grin.

“That’s playing dirty, to go and snitch to his dad!” Lorenzo hissed in Italian.

Now Michele couldn’t refrain from laughing. “I didn’t snitch anything to anyone,” he said in English. “I was just continuing my talk with Paddy. What do you think he’s going to do, scold you on Charlie’s behalf for your opinion on him? Which, I think, everyone already knows.”

The frown still hadn’t vanish from Paddy’s face, but he looked more confused than concerned down on Lorenzo.

“I’m not going to do anything on anyone’s behalf,” Paddy said. “Those boys are old enough to deal with their problems on their own. I’m only here to give them a piece of my mind, if necessary. It’s none of my business if you don’t like Charlie. He knows it, too.”

“Well, I’d hope he would,” Lorenzo said.

A second went by in silence before Paddy spoke up again. “Anyways Lorenzo, don’t worry. Nothing said in this car will ever leave it. Not through my mouth, anyways.”

“I’m sorry if it felt like I dragged you into this, Patrick,” Michele said. “Maybe now that Lorenzo realised he’s not proud enough of his opinion for everyone to hear, he might reconsider why he’s thinking it at all.”

Lorenzo pulled himself back onto the seat. “That’s not what you had asked me,” he told Michele.

Michele sighed and looked into the rear view mirror as he was about to answer him.

A grin appeared all across Lorenzo’s face and his eyes were wide open, sparkling with the idea that just must have come upon him.

He leant forwards and grabbed the lean of Paddy’s chair, careful not to touch his shoulder. He pulled himself even closer before he asked: “Tell me Paddy, since none of this will leave this car, could you tell me if Charlie is seeing anyone back in Ireland? You know, I don’t talk often with him, but he it doesn’t seem like he hasn’t mentioned it to Marco either.”

“Then I suppose he isn’t seeing anyone. Why should I know what this lad does in his free time, much less who he drags into bed?!” Paddy answered.

“I don’t know, maybe he flirts at the job like he does when we’re around!”

Michele bit his lip. He wasn’t going to call out Lorenzo for his cheap tactic. If he wanted to walk the road to ruin, he had to deal with the falling bricks alone.

Paddy still frowned, but once more his expression turned from worried to confused.

The wrinkles on his forehead lifted, only to intensify as he turned to Lorenzo with a grim look.

“You’re looking for some mud to throw at Charlie for your brother, don’t you,” he said. He looked down on Lorenzo. His head almost collided with the car roof and had it been not for the roof and the seat between them, he would have probably towered over Lorenzo. “Tell you what, you’re not going to hear any. I don’t know what petty mudfight has been going on between you two, but I won’t be dragged into it.” He turned his head around. After a few moments, he slid down his seat.

“Grazie Patrick,” Michele whispered under his breath.

“I ...,” Lorenzo looked for words.

Paddy turned his head again to look at him. “You what?”

“I’m just concerned for my brother,” Lorenzo said. “I don’t want that Marco’s being lied to and does something he regrets in the end.”

“Charlie’s not a liar. Or a cheater. That’s all I can tell you to allay those fears. He’s got a loose tongue, but he hasn’t got a loose heart.”

“Lorenzo, is this really about Marco?” Michele asked in Italian. He was grateful for Paddy’s help, but it was still him who took care of the twins. Paddy had his own family to worry about. “Or even about Charlie?”

It grew quiet in the car. Between all the cars parked at the sides of the road, Michele could already see the ones passing on the busier road ahead of them.

“What else should it be about?” Had he not waited for a reply, Michele wouldn’t have heard the quiet question.

“Could it be that you wish for Charlie to deceive Marco because you don’t like the thought that your brother genuinely has another opinion than you?”

They reached the end of the street. Michele didn’t like the vastness of the streets meeting at this point nor of the park ahead of him. The trees had been stripped of almost all their leaves by now and made Michele feel as naked as them. Naked and without protection, out in the open for everyone to see. He drove as fast as the car in front of him allowed it.

Lorenzo hadn’t made a sound through it all.

“That probably sounded harsher than I what I wanted to say,” Michele said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t think it sounded harsh,” Lorenzo mumbled. Michele had trouble understanding him over the sound of the street.

Thoughts, reproaches and things to say flitted back and forth in his head, while his eyes did the same to scan their surroundings for anything suspicious. He felt a strain coming on.

“Lorenzo, are you afraid of Marco leaving you behind for Charlie?” Michele asked. Despite his best effort to keep himself together, he couldn’t help that his voice sounded breathless. “You don’t have to answer me this question or talk about it with me at all. I just thought that maybe you haven’t thought of it yet and would like to … think about it.”

_How eloquent, Michele.  
_

“There’s nothing to think about,” Lorenzo said. Michele heard and saw from the corners of his eyes how he laid back down. “Charlie surely hates me too by now, so he and Marco are perfectly fine off without me.”

Michele hadn’t expected it to end like this. The silence that followed only lend Lorenzo’s words emphasis. They steamrolled Michele.

“I don’t think Charlie hates you,” he said once he found his tongue. “I’m very sure he doesn’t. Do you really hate him? Or do you just dislike him? Or … some of the things he does.”

The open space had been replaced by a wall that ran along the road. ‘Military Zone’ it read in Italian on yellow signs that were spaced out all along the wall. The cameras that accompanied them made Michele feel even more stripped than any vast fields and empty trees could have made him feel.

“I suppose I don’t hate him,” Lorenzo said. “But he talks annoyingly much. And he thinks he’s way cooler than he actually is.”

“That’s it?” Michele said. “That are all of your complaints? If you’d ask me, you and Charlie could work that out if he really becomes involved with Marco.”

Lorenzo sighed. “I don’t know if I want to work that out or if you can work that out. I just can’t be around him all of the time. I’d get fed up with him.”

“Nobody said you’d have to spend all of your life with Charlie,” Michele replied. “Nobody would force you to spend any time with him at all.”

“Marco is surely not going to leave his sweetheart behind for me.” There was nothing sweet about how he pronounced the word.

“He’s not going to leave anyone behind, first and foremost,” Michele said. “And more important, he’s not going to spend his entire free time with Charlie from now on. He’s got his own life and so does Charlie. They’re not glued together from now on, it’s impossible, because as sad as it is for the two, they’d also still have a long distance relationship like me and Harry. You and Marco, you’ll still live together, work together and spend your free time together, all without Charlie. Charlie’s not going to take Marco away from you, no one ever will. Marco will just split his time between you and Charlie.”

“And who says he's going to split it evenly?” Lorenzo asked. “Maybe I'll just be a footnote in his life from now on. Necessary baggage.”

“Marco would never degrade you to a footnote, Lorenzo,” Michele said. “You're brothers. Not only by blood. You’ve always been at each other’s side as long as I know you.”

“I'm pretty sure he’s seriously pissed with me this time, though,” Lorenzo said.

“Then you apologise to him and tell him the truth this time: That you are afraid of losing him to Charlie. I'm sure he’ll understand and – “

“He basically already said he wants to forget me,” Lorenzo cut him off. “And that he doesn’t give a shit about how I feel and what I have to say.”

Michele was so relieved to leave the military zone behind, he lost his train of thought. After he turned into another street, the apartment blocks in sight again, he replied:  
“Because you didn’t tell him how you really felt! He didn’t knew why you acted the way you did, which was like a jerk. Of course Marco’s pissed when you pry into parts of his life that are none of your business! You’re _not_ your brother’s keeper, Lorenzo. You still worry about him, of course, but in the end you have to respect Marco’s decisions. In turn, of course, Marco has to respect your feelings, too. I’m sure he’ll understand you once you tell him how you’re really feeling about the entire affair. He couldn’t have known it before. Marco can’t read your thoughts, Lorenzo.”

Michele passed the intersection ahead of him just as the light was turning red. There was a car horn from the left and Michele almost jumped in his seat at it. After he had checked his surroundings and still hadn’t seen a sign of the Vargas and their henchmen, he relaxed.

He hadn’t notice how much time had passed in silence. In fact, he only noticed the silence once Lorenzo interrupted it.

“I thought that we had come so far that we could,” Lorenzo muttered.

It took Michele a second to remember what he had said last. Once he did, his heart sunk into his guts.

“You know, Lorenzo, sometimes things become out of sync,” Michele began slowly. “A grandfather’s clock stops ticking. Then you have to manually rewind it, you have to manually get things back into the same rhythm. You two weren’t born inseperable, were you? No, from all you told me and from all I’ve seen as you two grew up, you made an effort. This special relationship, this bond you two have, isn’t god given twin telepathy. You’ve just made the effort to get to know each other inside out. You know, Lorenzo, what the good thing about this is?”

Lorenzo buzzed, if at all and Michele hadn’t misheard a noise of the car as answer.

Whether it had been a buzz or no answer at all, Michele willingly interpreted it as yes. “You learn from mistakes. The next time something like this will happen, the next time you’re afraid of losing Marco, he’ll see the signs and know without words. Like you two always do. One disagreement doesn’t make you strangers to each other. No, it’s just another chance to get to know each other better, even if you thought you already knew everything about each other. You know the differences between yourself better than anyone, including me, ever will. It’s an amazing piece of work to mesh as well as you and Marco. Don’t let a single difference ruin this masterpiece.”

This time, Michele noticed the silence. It accompanied them for a long while on their trip through Rome’s suburbs.

Lorenzo sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. I should probably talk to Marco and explain everything. If he still wants to talk with me.”

“Don’t worry about that, Lorenzo. He still loves you, just as you love him. Why do you think your disapproval hurt him so much? You’ll two work this out. You always did.”

A short pause followed this time. “That’s true,” Lorenzo said. For the first time in what had felt like hours to Michele, his voice sounded light again. Free of the weight of worry, no pain tearing at his cords.

Michele threw a quick glance over his shoulder to not disturb Lorenzo. He stared at the ceiling, arms rested on the case underneath his head. As far as Michele could tell, he didn’t look sad anymore. Far from happy, too, but it was a calm look overall.

He didn’t notice that it had built up, but a deep sigh escaped from his chest.

“Exhausted?” Paddy asked. Michele had almost forgotten his presence and only acknowledged it whenever he had looked around and seen him from the corners of his eyes.

Eerie how this giant of a man could make himself disappear through sheer calm.

“Probably,” Michele answered. “Don’t worry about me, though.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Paddy replied. Michele realized the answer should have probably stung, but the absence of any sting was all he noticed. “As long as you’re not giving me any reason. I’m only worried about my own wellbeing with you behind the wheel.”

Michele’s eyelids and his mouth dropped halfway down, together with his mood.

“I don’t know when I gave you a reason to worry about that,” he said.

“To be fair, I think, it’s less you as it this country’s driving style as a whole,” Paddy said. “We’re still going for the highway, right?”

“That is the plan, yes,” Michele answered. “I just want to avoid any major roads. I don’t want them to see us before we reached the highway. If everything goes right, they won’t know that we left Rome at all.”

“I hope the boys will get to leave Rome at all,” Paddy said.

Michele had pushed the thought far at the back of his mind whenever it cropped up. They hadn’t heard anything from Marco, Harry and Charlie ever since they had left the café and Harry’s call.

“I trust them,” Michele said. “It was Harry’s idea, he surely knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope so,” Paddy said.

“Marco knows how to operate on Rome’s streets, so I don’t think they should have any problems with that, at least,” Michele said. “They would have told us if they had any problems.”

“I would hope so,” Paddy said again.

Michele would have never admitted it to even himself, but right now he would have liked to hear some reassurance. Paddy’s doubt, unsaid but lingering in the silence, only fed into his own.

Michele sighed deeply. “I know Harry is as stubborn as a mule at times, but he wouldn’t try to keep trouble away from me, from us. He’s stubborn, not dumb.”

“That’s true,” Paddy said. “He’s stubborn, not dumb. He knows that this plan is a team effort.”

“We’ll just check up on them once we’re closer to the highway,” Michele said. “Won’t take long anymore, anyways.”

“Hopefully,” Paddy said. “Though I cannot say I’m thrilled for the Highway. Call me rude, but I don’t think you people should be encouraged in your way of driving by a higher speed limit.”

Michele wondered if being captured by the Vargas could be worse than being trapped with Paddy for possibly a few more hours.

“Oh, let me put your mind at rest, Patrick, no one would drive reckless on a highway,” he said with a thin smile on his lips. “I’ll take on the police, I’ll take on the AISI when I have to, but the highway police? They crumble you under their heel once they’ve got you in their sight. That’s why all you find in my police file are tickets for speeding or other traffic related faux pas.”

“Oh yes, that really puts my mind to rest,” Paddy said. “Don’t know any place I’d rather be right now than in a car with you behind the wheel.”

“Would you rather walk, Patrick? Or wait here for the others to pick you up?” Michele asked. The edge in his voice was cancelled out by the underlying hum of his words and the smile on his face.

“Good grief, no. I wouldn’t switch into Charlie’s car for all the tea in China,” Paddy said. “Anything’s better than this flat rubberduck, no matter who’s behind the wheel.”  
Lorenzo chuckled. Michele’s entire body relaxed for a second and a silly smile spread on his face.

“Charlie does have a nice car, though,” Michele said. “Its colour aside. Porsches always have something very classy about them, yet they’re as powerful as any other sportscar.”

“I mean, I suppose it’s a nice car,” Paddy said. “From the way Charlie talks about it, it must be. He’s an expert on that topic. I know how to repair any minor damage, but that’s it. Never cared for how fast the engine was as long as it was running at all.”

“I guess you still know more about cars than many other people,” Michele said. “Practically speaking maybe even more than those car experts.”

“Could be. What about you, Michele? Do you care for cars?”

Michele frowned slightly. From the corners of his eyes he saw that Paddy looked at him.

Cars. Not a topic he had expected from Paddy, much less after what he just had said about himself.

“You could say I am,” he said. “I don’t collect any or go to Oldtimer exhibitions, but I do think that cars are some very interesting toys.”

“Toys.” Paddy snorted. “Charlie does always sound as happy as a child when he talks about cars. I do like listening to him, the things he explains are interesting. How they manage to make these things so fast in the first place. But I only need that my car gets me from A to B in the end and that I don’t break my spine when it get into it.”

“What kind of car do you drive?” Michele asked.

“A Range Rover.” The answer didn’t surprise him. “Estate cars are good and would be better for the city, but it’s the SUVs and wannabe SUVs that are better for my back.”

“Ever thought about getting a cabrio?” Lorenzo asked and they all laughed.

“Ireland’s no place with cabrio weather,” Paddy said. “I don’t need any rain no more, I’m already all grown up.

Michele snorted.

“You could drive with an umbrella,” Lorenzo said and Paddy laughed.

The once so broad street had begun to fill up with cars that waited for the traffic light to turn green. Michele came to a hold behind another car as the ones to the left of them began to cross the street.

Michele didn’t mind to drive slowly, but he did mind to stand still. Especially in a space as open as this one. For a few moments, he contemplated if he shouldn’t just turn left and use the main road for a little while.

“What car do you drive, Michele?” Paddy asked.

He decided against it. He’d rather stand here for another minute and slip back into the safety of a smaller street than take the risk.

“A Lamborghini,” Michele said. “A Murcielago. It’s not the latest model, but it’s a beautiful car. Lovino drives a Lamborghini, too, an Aventador. Well, if he needs it. I don’t need to compensate for …”

The _anything_ died in his throat. His mouth hung and his eyes were wide open as they followed the car that just crossed the intersection ahead of them. The Aventador’s bright red polish shone in the late autumn sun.

“Speak of the devil and he appears,” he whispered. “The red car, that’s an Aventador, Paddy. Lovino Vargas’ damn Aventador in fact.”

“What?” He didn’t turn his head but judging from his tone, Paddy made the same face as him.

He heard Lorenzo jump in his seat. “What?!”

“I don’t think he has seen us,” Michele said. Now he looked to Paddy. His face was as surprised as he had imagine, but his eyebrows were slightly furrowed in worry. It quickly changed back to surprised as he noticed Michele’s look.

“If I could make myself smaller without breaking my spine, I promise, I would,” he said.

“I don’t think that your size is a problem,” Michele said. “He just drove past, anyways.” The traffic light turned yellow. “We’ll just continue as planned. If we keep off the main roads, they won’t spot us. They’re only looking for Charlie’s Porsche.”

“Let’s hope those boys don’t get into trouble,” Paddy said as they crossed the street with Michele’s eyes frantically looking around.

“I trust them that they won’t,” Michele said, not eager to repeat their depressing conversation about the topic. “They’re cleverer than Lovino. We’ve escaped him once this morning already, we won’t be caught a second time either.” Once they had crossed the intersection, Michele swiftly passed the car ahead of them. “We’ll reach the highway in no time and then this entire game will be over. The other three won’t have any problems leaving either. We know some roads in Rome not even Lovino would think of taking.”

Michele turned left and followed the road. His look was focused on it with a grim determination.

Yet, an assuring smile flashed over his features as he said: “Don’t you worry, yours truly has it all figured out.”


	19. Dead End

Gwendolyn picked the lunchbox off the ground and gave it a wipe with the sleeve of her coat. 

She handed it to Sophie before she took up the muffin and peeled the paper liner off. 

“I know you aren’t supposed to feed any pigeons or sparrows, but before we throw it away, they can have it,” she said and threw the muffin back to the ground. 

Soph doubted even birds wanted to eat the charcoal. 

The lunchbox was still wet from the grass. It had lost a splinter when it hit the ground and now its closing mechanism was broken. 

Soph considered just throwing it into the trash. With every second she held it, she felt her heart sink deeper into her guts and blood pump faster through her head. Her forehead throbbed. 

The lunchbox was an ugly reminder of what she had done. Despite the reassurance of Maeve that it had been self-defence and despite the fact that Gwen hadn’t scolded her, she still felt bad and ashamed for what she had done. 

“I can put the box away, too, if you want me to,” Maeve said and held her hand out. 

Soph shook her head. “I’ll do it,” she said and marched back inside. 

She didn’t bother to turn the lights on. Once in the kitchen, she put the box onto the table and turned on her heel. 

Before she left the house, she checked if she had turned on the security system. She had. 

She shut the door behind herself and looked over to Gwen, who stared at Alby’s house. Soph felt her face burn up. 

She walked over to Gwen and muttered “I’m still sorry,” her eyes glued to the pathway. 

“Soph, don’t apologise to me for what you did.” Soph grid her teeth and tears gathered at her eyes. Her head felt like it would explode at any moment. “The only one who needs to apologize for what they did here is him. Forget about it now, Sophie. You’ve had enough stress.” 

She could feel the muscles in her face slowly relax and blinked her tears away. 

Gwen was probably right. She lifted her head and looked over to Maeve. “Do you really want to come with us? I don’t want that you get into trouble at home because of me.” 

“I’ll live,” Maeve replied. “I just skipped lunch. Plus, if they really wanted to have me back home, they would have already called me.” 

“Alright,” Soph said and shouldered her bag anew before the strip slid off her shoulder. While they had waited for Gwen, Soph had packed what she needed to stay the night, alongside with her school uniform and school supplies. She had never before noticed how small and worn out her bag was. 

She had no idea how she should take the muffins to school tomorrow. 

“Are you sure you want to bake cake with me, though?” Soph asked Maeve. 

“Sure! Now that we have Gwen to help us, the muffins might actually turn out right,” Maeve said with a slight smile. Gwen laughed. “Soph, what’s up with that serious face? Of course I want to bake cake with you.” 

Soph gave her a weak twitch of the corners of her mouth. 

“It has to work out for you at some point,” Gwen said. “But get into the car now, it’s way too cold out here!”

“Well, if I catch a cold, then I don’t have to bake for tomorrow,” Soph said. “Or if I catch one and contaminate the muffins, everyone will become ill and then they won’t ever make me bake again.” She opened the door of the passenger seat. 

“If you only contaminate the dough though, most bacteria should be killed after baking. Bacteria and viruses don’t like high temperatures,” Maeve explained. 

Soph squinted at her across the car’s roof. “Fuck you, you biology loving smartarse. Then I’ll just sneeze onto them once they’ve finished baking.” She sat down inside of the car and dropped her bag into the footwell. There wasn’t much space for her feet left. 

“If everything goes wrong, we can resort to that plan and save you from any future baking endeavours,” Gwen said and Soph chuckled. Gwen put the key into the ignition and started the car. One hand at the wheel, the other at the seatbelt, she asked: “How many muffins do you need for tomorrow?” 

“Too many,” Soph answered while Gwen drove off the sidewalk. The longer she thought about the topic, the less she wanted to focus on it and the further down she slid in her seat. 

The seatbelt cut into her belly and throat and snapped her out of it. 

“I think at least 30,” she said once she sat upright again. “40 and we have everyone covered for sure.” 

“You aren’t the only one who has to bring cake, though,” Maeve said. 

“Dunno. Am I?” Soph asked. 

“It’d very unfair and mean if you are the only person that has to bake,” Maeve said. 

Soph shrugged. She had slid down again and her head rested on her chest. Gwen drove fast and every now and then there were little bumps. The motion and the sound of the car on Dublin’s corroded street made her want to doze off. 

She could have slept for a week and wake up again when all of her problems and worries had dissolved themselves into thin air. 

“40 muffins will be a piece of cake, you’ll see,” Gwen said. Maeve chuckled. Soph couldn’t find the energy for a smile. “We’ll make it all work out just fine in the end, Soph.” 

“Hmm” was Soph’s answer. She didn’t say a word for the rest of the ride. 

Gwen drove into the driveway of her house five minutes later. 

Her bag felt as if it weighed five tons and only grabbing the straps made her arms ache. 

She sighed and swallowed a lump in her throat. Her tears had to wait for when she was alone. 

“Reagan also has to bring cake,” Maeve said. She looked at her phone when Soph turned her head. 

She kept her eyes on Maeve for a few more moments while her brain processed what she had just said. 

She snorted as she turned around again and heaved her bag out of the footwell. 

“Then let’s pray he does,” she said. “Because I honestly don’t believe that stuck up prick will lift just one finger.” She opened the car door. 

“He might not, but his Ma will,” Maeve said as she got out of the car. Gwen was the last to close her car door and locked it while Soph shouldered her bag. 

“Is he one of those boys who think that mothers are only for baking?” Gwen asked. She wore a thin smile on her lips and had said it in a sweet tone. 

The sheer anger that seeped out of the sentence made Soph grin. 

She gave a laugh. “He always thinks that other people are there to do things he doesn’t want to do.” 

“He always takes but never gives. Really – never. The second something is altruistic in the slightest and requires a bare minimum of effort, he drops everything. But of course as soon as someone else does something for the commonwealth, like baking a cake for school, he’ll take as much as he can get his hands on,” Maeve explained. 

“And he’s our class president. If something just includes delegating duties to others and deciding things, he’s of course the most altruistic person this world has ever seen. Jesus would be green with envy,” Soph said. “The worst thing is that the entire school is full of people like him. Full of privileged arseholes, who get everything thrown at their feet by their parents.”  

They walked towards the front door. Soph didn’t know if it was her tired eyes or her sad mood, but the grey sgraffato façade of the house looked dirty today. Dirty and washed out. The projection’s roof next to the front door looked exhausted by its own weight. 

“Oh, I know. I know very well,” Gwen said and unlocked the front door. “Apparently nothing has changed, but that shouldn’t have surprised me. It’ll probably stay the same for the next six or sixty years as well. It has always been a rich kids school and will always be one.” 

“Did you go to our school, too?” Maeve asked as she followed Soph and Gwen inside. 

Gwen shortly stopped in her track to look at her and laugh. “Me? No, I went to one of the public schools. My son Charlie went there until six years ago, when that rascal graduated.” 

Soph turned the lights on and went straight into the living room to drop off her bag. She didn’t want to put it into the closet underneath the stairs which served as wardrobe. Between Gwen’s various coats and jackets, shoes and boots, there wasn’t much space for a backpack bursting on the seams. 

Soph hoped it wouldn’t literally burst. 

“Just hang your coat in here,” Gwen told Maeve after she had opened said closet. “If you find a spot. I keep telling myself to go through the jackets and take those I don’t wear often back upstairs, but I keep forgetting.” 

“I thought they were all down here because there is no space in your other closet anymore,” Soph said as she took off her jacket and hung it onto a coat peg.” And your other closet. And your other closet –“ 

Gwen gave an indignant snort. “Young lady,” she warned with smirk on her face. 

Soph chuckled through her grinning teeth. 

As Maeve wanted to take off her shoes, Gwen said: “Don’t bother. I can give you a pair of slippers if you want, but you don’t have to try and keep my floor clean. It isn’t. So you better don’t walk around in socks either.” 

“Oh, okay,” Maeve said. 

Only now Soph realized that Maeve might have never been to Gwen’s place. She tried to remember, for how long she had known Maeve and when she had stopped coming to Gwen’s place. 

Two or three years ago, after her father’s death, Soph had to repeat a form. Thus she transferred into a class underneath her old one and met Maeve. Around the same time Soph had gone to school regularly again, she had spent more and more time alone at home instead of Gwen coming over or Soph going to her place. 

“Soph?” Maeve asked and jolted her out of her thoughts. “Is everything alright?”

Soph shook her head. “Sure. I just wondered if I had ever taken you to Gwen’s place before.” 

“I don’t think so, no,” Maeve answered. “I think I’ve only ever seen her at your place.” 

Gwen came over for baking ever since Aaron died. Gwen and Charlie celebrated Christmas with them ever since her husband Connor died. Charlie had moved out a few years ago. 

“Girls, are you coming? Do you want a cup of tea?” Gwen asked from the kitchen. There was no other sound but her voice and steps. 

A silence Soph knew all too well. If she closed her eyes and imagined herself in the kitchen of her own home, how the clinking of a teaspoon in a mug resonated throughout the entire house, because there wasn’t another soul to make a sound … 

Would she be able to feel the same weight of memories and loneliness Gwen felt? The sadness that made her want to flee it?  

“We’re coming!” Soph answered, albeit not very loudly. It felt like half of her voice stuck to the walls of her throat. 

She walked into the kitchen with Maeve in tow and Gwen turned on an electric kettle filled to the brim with water before she reached for a tea box. 

Three mugs sat on the table and the tea box joined them. “If you want anything, suit yourself.” 

Soph didn’t need to be told twice. Worries always dissolved over a good cup of tea or  so Soph at least hoped each time anew. When they didn’t, she just tried to drink enough to drown the bastards. 

“You want one, too?” she asked Maeve after she had selected a teabag from the box, but Maeve shook her head. 

“Sit down if you want to,” Gwen said. “No need to wait for an invitation or anything.” 

With a slight, embarrassed smile and a faint blush in her face, Maeve sat down. 

Soph had to snort at the sight. However, as she kept looking at her friend, she noticed how Maeve’s look strayed. 

A staple of newspapers lay at one end of the table. Empty milk jugs stood next to the fridge and dirty dishes on top of the dishwasher. A few tools, Soph supposed for gardening, laid on the windowsill at the back of the room. 

The kitchen looked normal. Not worse than her own one, but Soph remembered a time when magazines and newspapers had covered half the kitchen table, interspersed with drawings or other things of Charlie. Jackets and scarves had hung on the back of kitchen chairs while their seats were hogged by school and shopping bags. 

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Gwen said as if she had read Soph’s thoughts. It was more likely though that she had noticed the girls’ wandering gazes. 

“It’s not a mess, Gwen,” Soph said and Maeve nodded. 

Gwen snorted with a grin on her lips. “Connor would have called it one,” she added. “But at least he would have cleaned it up afterwards.” She opened the dishwasher and sighed when she discovered it was still full with clean dishes. “And I wonder where those bastards always are,” she muttered. 

“I’ll help you,” Soph offered but Gwen shook her head. 

“It’s not much. You could do me another favour, though, while you’re still standing. There is a big baking book in the closet.” Gwen turned around to point at it. 

“Ah, yeah, I know!” Soph said and went over to the closet. 

She and Harry had spent countless days at Gwen’s house as they grew up. Yet it was surprising that she remembered what Gwen stored in said closet, because the shelf with a variety of cooking books and kitchen device manuals had gathered quite some dust. 

“Do you need any help?” Maeve asked when Soph went to stand on her toes. 

“Thank you, but although everything looks small from so far above, I’m tall myself, too,” Soph replied. There wasn’t any dust on the huge baking book. 

Once pulled over the edge, it almost fell onto her head. She caught it in the last second and, the shock still in her bones, pressed it to her chest and closed the closet. 

Maeve stared at her with eyes wide open too and a sigh of relief left her. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing that baking has done to me today,” Soph said and laughed. “Actually, that would be consistent of it. After all the suffering it has caused me, it better damn well has the balls to kill me!” 

Maeve laughed and Soph even heard Gwen snicker. She had a questioning look on her face though when she asked: “Soph, what has baking ever done to you?”

“Everything.” Soph dropped the book onto the kitchen table. It shook slightly from the impact. 

“Aren’t you sure it isn’t the other way around?” Gwen asked. 

“I might have tortured those muffins physically, but they broke me psychically, Gwen.” 

The electric kettle finished boiling with a clicking sound Soph fetched it. 

“Do you want a cup of tea, too?” she asked Gwen when she returned to the table. 

“Yes, thank you, dear.” Soph poured hot water into her own mug and into another one. She brought the kettle back to its station and finally sat down across Maeve.  
While Soph had been busy, she had begun to look through the book. The glossy big pictures of pies and cakes that looked perfect even upside down sunk Soph’s mood. 

“If you’re having such a hard time making muffins, why don’t we make something else?” Gwen closed the dishwasher and dried her hands with a kitchen towel. “I bet you that you would love a Porter cake and so would everyone else.” 

“A porter cake?” Soph asked and Maeve already browsed the pages. 

“It’s a fruit cake – with Porter. A Guinness cake.” Gwen grinned. 

Maeve immediately dropped the pages she had been holding back in one hand. “Oh no, we can’t do this. My parents would raise a fuzz.”

“And Fiona. Her family’s abstinent and … really strict. And catholic.” Soph considered how hypocritical this sounded since she and her brother were technically practicing Catholics as well. Fiona was holier than the pope, though. “Forget Maeve’s parents, Fiona’s parents will try to sue the school or something for it.” 

“How old are you all again?” Gwen asked, directly looking at Maeve. The grin had vanished from her face and her eyebrows were furrowed in worry. 

“I’m sixteen,” Maeve said. “Most of us are and no one of us is 18 yet.” 

Gwen turned her head to Soph. “Okay, Porter cake would probably be a bad idea. Let’s bake something that wouldn’t get you kicked out of school.”

Soph snorted. “I don’t know, getting kicked out of school sounds like a great idea. So does a Guinness cake.” 

“No, Soph, it sounds like a bad idea,” Maeve said very firmly. 

“What do you have against a Guinness cake?” Soph asked. A skewed grin had sneaked onto her face as she stirred her tea. 

Maeve glared at her and Soph’s grin was gone within a heartbeat. With her eyebrows slightly arched upwards, Maeve looked truly upset. 

Of course she worried about Soph’s wellbeing and her future. Of course she didn’t want Soph to get kicked out of school and neither did Soph. Especially not because of a stupid cake. 

“No, young lady, getting kicked out of school is a terrible idea. Ask your brother or my son, they have both almost achieved it quite a few times. We’re going to bake you a cake, it’ll turn out great and everyone will love you. Alright?” 

Soph swallowed the lump in her throat and giggled. “Alright,” she muttered. Louder she added: “Don’t forget your tea, the water is going cold.” 

“Oh, of course! Thank you for the reminder. Would you hand me the tea box?” 

“Is there a tea cake?” Maeve asked and turned the pages of the cooking book again while Soph handed the box to Gwen. 

“You mean scones?” Soph asked. 

“We can also make scones,” Gwen said. 

“No, I mean cake that has like … tea in it.” Maeve put the pages down and her index finger ran over the glossary. 

Soph thought about how a tea cake would be right up there alongside with a Guinness cake. Then she thought about how much more preparation a tea cake would probably take. 

The muffins she had baked over the course of the weekend flew across her inner eye like a horror picture slideshow. 

She shook her head. “No! We’re not going to make any tea cakes or … anything!” she said. “We’re going to make plain old muffins. Without any fruits or other fancy additions. They have to work at some point! You said yourself that muffins aren’t hard!”

“They’re not,” Gwen said and put a welcomed end to Soph’s rambling. “And they will work this time, don’t worry Soph. How about this: I’ll bake the muffins for you and you’ll put your feet up for a while with Maeve. Just try and get a rest after all that has happened this weekend.” She smiled. “If the muffins go wrong this time around, you can put all the blame on me, too.”  

Soph considered it. She considered it for a long time. Her aching bones and tired eyes contemplated how good a nap would feel right now. 

“No, I want to help you baking,” Soph said. “I don’t want to be like Reagan. I don’t want that you do all this work when it’s actually my job.” 

“Reagan also didn’t have your weekend, Soph,” Maeve said. She pushed her glasses back. “Just a thought for you to consider.” 

“Take your time to think about it, Soph.” Gwen rubbed her hand over her back. “You can always tap out and sit back while we’re baking. I appreciate the thought, but don’t you worry about me, young lady.” She hugged Soph and Soph never wanted to let go or open her eyes again as her head rested against Gwen’s chest. “I’m the godmother and you’re my goddaughter and I promised your ma that I’ll take good care of you and that includes baking those pesky, pesky cakes that just won’t turn out right.” 

Soph smiled and sighed. She stayed in Gwen’s embrace for a few more moments. With another sigh, she pulled away in the end. 

“Maeve, dear, would you look for the page with the muffins and tell me what we need.” 

“Of course, Madam,” Maeve said and turned the pages again. 

Soph and Gwen began to pile bowls and ingredients according to Maeve’s instructions on the table. When Maeve wanted to switch places with Gwen and help Soph weigh the ingredients, her phone rang. 

Her nose scrunched up and the corners of her mouth dropped onto the floor when she looked at the display. The frown on her face was quickly replaced with furrowed eyebrows, though. 

“Your parents?” Soph asked. 

“Most likely, yes. Excuse me.” She left the kitchen and closed the door quietly behind her while the phone still rang in her hands. 

“Do her parents know she’s with you?” Gwen asked. 

“Yeah,” Soph answered but doubted it in the same second. Maeve might as well had left the house without telling her parents anything, just so they wouldn’t stop her from coming over. She immediately felt bad for the trouble Maeve might have put herself into. All because of silly Soph. 

“Well then.” Gwen looked into the book. She had stared at the ingredients for too many moments as she spoke up again: “She didn’t seem too happy about that call.” 

“She isn’t. Her parents are …” Soph tried to find any words that wouldn’t make Maeve’s parents sound like strictest squares in the whole of Dublin. “They like to have everything … “

“They’re strict and a bit snobbish like many other parents of many other kids at your school,” Gwen said. “Are they not?” It sounded like she had added it more by courtesy and the ghost of a smile on her lips didn’t help that impression. 

“Yeah,” Soph said. “Don’t tell her, though. I mean, she knows that I don’t like her parents and she often complains to them about me, but I wouldn’t want her to think I go around and talk bad about her family.” 

“What, you would never Soph. An old woman who wags her tongue too much said they were pretentious idiots, but you dear angel never lost a bad word about them.” Soph chuckled and Gwen chuckled with her. “Don’t worry, that’s just between the two of us. I won’t lose a word about it to Maeve.” 

Soph was weighing flour when the door to the kitchen opened again. 

“My mum said I have to come home in half an hour.” She adjusted her glasses and Soph wondered if it was to hide the tired look in her eyes. “She invited the neighbours over for tea later on and wants to make sure I’ll be there on time. Help her with preparation and all this kind of stuff.” 

“I’ll drive you home then,” Gwen told her and Maeve looked at her. “Not now, in half an hour,” she quickly added as she saw the shock on her face. “No one’s going to throw you out, dear, don’t worry.” 

“That’d be very kind of you,” Maeve said. “My parents wanted to come and get me but I told them I would come home on my own.” 

“Did they say anything else?” Soph asked. “Or did they just tell you to come home.” 

The smile on Maeve’s face was faker than a carnival mask. “Just to come home. How can I help while I’m still here?”

“You can sift the flour once Soph is done weighing it,” Gwen said and Soph’s eyebrows lifted while she almost dropped the bag of flour into the bowl. 

“Sift it? Why do we need to sift it?” 

“To make sure there aren’t any clots in it. Flour becomes sticky when it’s damp, which happens easily if it’s stored for a while,” Maeve explained. “The flour at the bottom of the bag also sticks together because the weight of the flour above it compresses it.” 

Soph’s confused look had a side of annoyed as she stared at Maeve. “Alrighties, we both know why you’re the one who specialises in the STEM field, no need to flaunt it all the time, Einstein. Rather get a sieve and sift this shit then.” 

Maeve chuckled. “I will, if you’ll fetch me a sieve.” 

“You keep that smug look on your face and I’ll fetch you these hands!” They both laughed as Soph went to get the sieve which Gwen had just retrieved from a drawer. 

“When you’re done bickering, you could help me make egg white foam,” Gwen said. 

Soph could only imagine whipped cream. “What’s egg white foam?”

“Beaten egg white. And for that we have to first separate the egg from the yolk.” Gwen opened the egg carton. “I’ll show you how it’s done and then you try it, alright?” 

Soph tried to watch as closely as possible as Gwen cracked an egg open at the brink of a small bowl and then proceeded to let the egg yolk slip from one egg shell into the other. 

When she did it, the egg white ran inside of her sleeves and dropped onto the worktop. What did land in the bowl was the yolk. If only it hadn’t landed in the one for the egg white. 

After the second egg, Gwen took over again about which both were very glad. 

“Why do we even need egg white foam?” Soph asked as she washed her hands. 

“For more air in the cake,” Gwen said and smiled at her. “Egg white foam is very fluffy, you see, because it’s basically 90% air. And the more air there’s in the dough, the more fluffy the muffins will become.” 

“I’m done with weighing,” Maeve said and adjusted her glasses with her wrists. There was a fine white film on her glasses. 

“Then you can –“ Gwen said but interrupted herself with a snort. “Wash your hands and glasses, dear. You looked like you just walked through the snow.” Maeve chuckled and blushed. “Then you wait until I finished beating the eggs so we can use the hand mixer to make all these things into batter.” 

Before Gwen went on to make the batter however, she retrieved two baking tins from another drawer. “Who of you wants to help me mix the batter and who of you wants to prepare the baking tin?”

Soph exchanged a look with Maeve and received a shrug as an answer. 

“I better take care of the baking tin. I think there’s less to fuck up.” 

Gwen chuckled. “I am sure you will do an excellent job, Soph. Take a kitchen paper then and the marge out of the fridge and wipe the tins with it.” 

Soph collected the things as she was told. “Woah, there are little hearts and shamrocks at the bottom,” she said as she took a closer look at the baking tins. 

“There are. My sister gave me them. I’m glad that I’ve found a use for them at last. And that you like it.” She smiled at Soph but her eyes looked tired. This gift probably had some sort of feelings attached to it. 

“That's very nice of your sister,” Soph said and hoped it’d be positive feelings. 

“She handed it to me with a ‘Now you can bake some cake for us, too, next time!’ and I don’t like being shamed for my lack of time and interest in baking. What I like even less is to bake anything for family gatherings, where everyone should be lucky that Charlie and I grace them with our presence and endure them.” 

“Oh.” Soph should have known better than to hope for something good. She knew that neither Gwen nor Charlie liked Gwen’s family. It was the reason why Soph’s and Harry’s parents had been Charlie’s godparents, instead of anyone from Gwen’s family. “Are the bottoms of the muffins actually going to be heart- and shamrock shaped?” she asked. 

“Maybe. I wouldn’t bet on it, but I couldn’t tell you, because this is the first time I’m using them,” Gwen answered. 

“Bloody bullshit if they won’t be,” Soph muttered to herself as Gwen went to mix the batter with Maeve. 

“My mum has a food processor for things like this,” Maeve said after she had added the egg white foam. “This thing can do about _everything._ ” 

Soph imagined a vaguely person-shaped robot which did kitchen tasks. “How?” she asked Maeve and somewhat hoped the image in her mind would be confirmed. 

“Well, it has several attachments for mixing, cutting and mashing … all kind of things.  It actually just looks like a big bowl on a stand. You can stack bowls on top of it, too, though.” 

Soph liked her robot much better than a boring bowl tower. 

“Would one of you like the batter on the whisks?” Gwen asked after she finished stirring. 

“Oh yes, please,” Soph said and took the whisks which Gwen had unplugged from the hand mixer. 

Her tongue already darted for the batter when Maeve asked: “But what about the Salmonella?” 

Soph broke into a laughing fit that shook her whole body. Little drops of batter flew around and landed on the floor, the worktops, her shirt. 

It was contagious. 

After a while, the laughter of the two girls simmered down until Gwen asked: “What’s so funny about salmonella?” 

“Nothing, salmonella are an unpleasant experience for anyone who catches them,” Maeve explained between their chuckles.  

“Yes,” Soph agreed and grabbed a rag to clean the kitchen and at last her shirt. Latter which didn’t quite work out: She felt the wet textile stick to her skin and yet still saw the batter stains. 

“Didn’t you bring something to change with you?” Maeve asked. 

“Only my school uniform and my PJs,” Soph answered but gave her a dismissive wave of her hand. “Doesn’t matter, I’m not going to leave the house anymore today.” 

“You still don’t need to clean your shirt with a dirty kitchen rag, Soph,” Gwen said. “Say a word and I’ll give you something of mine to wear, I’m sure I’ll find something that fits you.” 

“Thank you, but I’m good,” Soph said. “I’ll just change into my PJs once the muffins are done. You’re not expecting any guests for today, do you?”

“If I would, I would have told you when you called,” Gwen said. “The only thing I still have to do today is finish these muffins and drive Maeve home. Speaking of that, is the half an hour over yet?” 

Maeve looked onto her phone. “Pretty much,” she answered. “But I can stay for five more minutes.” 

“Alright. If your parents want to give you hell for being too late, I’ll take the blame on me. I didn’t know your address and took a few wrong turns, I’ll find an excuse.” 

“No, please, that won’t be necessary. If I get into trouble, then so be it. I don’t want to drag you into it –“ 

“None of that. Let’s finish the muffins while you’re still here. Who wants to fill the tin?” Gwen asked and turned on the oven. “Soph?” 

“Do you remember the eggs?” Soph asked. “The eggs I spilled everywhere?”

Gwen grinned and turned to Maeve. “I’ll do it,” she said before Gwen could even ask her. 

While Gwen and Maeve filled the batter into baking tins, Soph collected the dirty bowls and spoons lying around the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. If she couldn’t help baking _her_ cake, she would at least clean up the mess it made. 

She just dried off the worktops she had wiped with a rag earlier as Gwen said: “Thank you very much for your help. Five minutes are over, I suppose.” Gwen looked at her watch while Maeve pulled her phone out. 

“Yes, we better get going,” she said. 

“Alright, then I’ll put the muffins in the oven and get ready,” Gwen said and looked around the kitchen. “I’ll get the rest done on my own, thank you again, dear. You can already throw your coat on.” She found the pair of oven gloves she had been looking for. “Do you want to come with us, Soph?” 

“Nah, don’t think so. I mean, I did say I’m not going to leave the house anymore today. Besides, someone needs to watch the muffins.” Soph folded the kitchen towel and put it onto the still half-wet kitchen top. 

“I can also turn the oven off and put the muffins in later.” 

“No, don’t bother.” Maeve left the kitchen and Soph looked at her over her shoulder. “I’ll stay here.” 

“Alright.” Gwen opened the oven and put the muffins in. “I forgot to properly preheat it, but this’ll do as well.” She closed the oven door. “Now I better get going, I don’t want Maeve’s parents to punish that poor girl over being late.” 

Soph followed her into the corridor and stayed there while Gwen rushed upstairs. The door to the closet was open and the rustle of jackets came from within. 

Maeve gave her a surprised look when Soph showed up in the doorframe. “Soph? Are you coming with us after all?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

Maeve shrugged. “Not if you don’t want to. I’ll survive it on my own.” 

“I’ll still bring you to the car and say goodbye,” Soph said. 

“I would have come back into the kitchen to say goodbye anyways, I just wanted to get dressed first.” 

Silence. Maeve continued to button up her coat. 

“I’m sorry if you get in trouble because of me,” she said and Maeve snorted. Her coat was still only half-buttoned up when she pulled Soph into a hug. “Don’t worry so much about me, Soph. I’ll be alright and you’ll be, too.” 

Soph hugged her tight. “I’m such a handful, I don’t know why you’re still around. I can’t even bake bloody muffins, for fuck’s sake.” Maeve chuckled and Soph smiled. 

“You aren’t a handful, Soph. And even if, I rather have you being a handful than being boring. You always make my stupid life a little better.” 

Maeve let go of her and Soph wanted to immediately turn around so she wouldn’t see her cry. 

“You, too, Maeve.” She wiped the tears away with her sleeve and swallowed the lump in her throat. 

Gwen arrived back downstairs just when Maeve had finished buttoning up. Soph believed that Gwen had fixed her hair and put some make up on. The two girls stepped out of the closet as Gwen reached for her coat. 

“Where do you live, Maeve?” she asked. 

“Marino,” Maeve replied. 

“Ah, I know where that is.” Gwen closed her coat and looked around the corridor. Then she dug into the pockets of her coat and pulled her bunch of keys out. 

“That thing has a place, when will I ever learn to put it there,” she buzzed. Then she strode towards the door and opened it. On the porch, she turned around to Soph. 

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, don’t worry.” 

“I won’t,” Soph said. “You should worry about the muffins.” 

Gwen shook her head and went to the car. 

Maeve stopped besides Soph and turned to her. “Goodbye then,” she said and pulled Soph in yet another hug. “Until school tomorrow.” 

Soph groaned. “Yeah, until tomorrow.” 

“And don’t worry too much about the muffins. They’ll be fine. You’ll be fine, no matter what.” She paused for a second, then she whispered: “And don’t worry too much about your neighbour, either. You handled that just right.” 

They broke out of their hug and Maeve walked over to the car. Soph stood on the porch, waved Maeve goodbye and pulled faces until the car turned around a corner. 

It was cold outside. The wet spots on her pullover gave her goosebumps, so she went inside again and closed the door behind her. 

No, she wouldn’t worry. 

_This house doesn’t have a security system._

Had Gwen ever considered installing one? Had Connor, as police officer, ever thought that they were in the need of one? Probably not. Had Charlie ever told her to get one? 

He wouldn’t be able to tell her a reason why. Neither Soph’s parents or the boys ever told Gwen what they truly did for a living. 

_That’s not what you’re afraid of. You aren’t afraid that any gangster’s going to kidnap you and it’s silly. Should Alby have stalked you to here, let you bake muffins in peace only to break in and get you while you’re alone? Get real._

Her paranoia wouldn’t help anyone, the least herself. She went into the kitchen and looked into the oven, but there wasn’t much to see yet; the batter still laid flat in the tin. 

She sighed and sat down in front of the oven. While the warm air blew against her shins and arms, she looked outside into the garden. 

The cloudy look outside made her sleepy. She rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes. 

Her breath and the oven were the only noises in the kitchen. 

A creaking noise. Somewhere in the house. 

Soph’s head shot up, her arms flew to the side and she hit her elbow on the oven door. 

It hurt. Her heart beat faster. The bang of the impact resounded through the kitchen. It hurt her ears and her heart beat faster. 

“Ouch,” she cried. It didn’t hurt too much. 

The shock did. She broke into sobs and screams, head pressed against her knees. 

_You stupid litte girl -  
_

_There isn’t anything, the old house just creaked -  
_

_You just hit your elbow, it’s alright, it’s alright-  
_

_You never do anything right-  
_

_There’s no one get your shit together -  
_

_Don’t be so afraid of him -  
_

_Why did you do this?  
_

_I want to die, I want to die, I want to die -  
_

“I want to die,” she whispered. Her throat hurt and her breathing was jerky. 

The words sounded very silly said aloud. She sat in front of an oven with stupid muffins she insisted on bringing to school tomorrow. Soph didn’t really intend to die. 

No matter how much she thought about it however, deep down in her mind she wanted to drop dead on the spot. 

Instead, Soph grabbed the worktop above the oven and pulled herself up by her weak fingers. 

Once she stood, she threw a look at the muffins. The muffin tops had begun to emerge from the tin.

It painted a smile onto Soph’s face.

Her body still ached though, so she went into the living room to rest until Gwen came back. 

She sat down on the couch and after a relieved sigh left her mouth, she took a look at the magazines strewn across the coffee table. The whole table was coffered, except for one small square in the middle in which an empty but used mug stood. 

All the magazines were fashion magazines and yet Soph’s tired eyes managed to make out some differences after she had stared at them for a while.

Some were simple clothes catalogues in which one or two happy models wore an outfit on each page and the actual clothes were listed separately with their prices. Others also had prices on their glossy pictures, but the pictures took the whole page and looked even more aesthetic. One catalogue at the far end of the table was as thick as the phone book for the entire city of Dublin had to be. The page that Gwen had left it open at only showed a table with rows upon rows of description. 

The thick catalogue looked like it belonged to Gwen’s job as worker in a clothing store. It looked at least way to non-descriptive and technical for an average costumer who just wanted to look at pretty dresses before they chose one. Looking at all the text and only understanding parts made Soph’s head hurt. 

The last type of magazines were fashion magazines that featured actual articles, which talked about fashion trends and the inner workings of the business. They were more focused on fashion itself than on selling it, although Soph had a hard time telling a fashion guide that showed off each worn item with its price from an ad on the next page. 

Gingerly, she turned back the pages. She didn’t want to mess up anything, even if it already looked like one big mess to her. To Gwen there was a plan behind it, of this she was sure. 

A car drove into the street and Soph turned her head towards the window. The heavy weariness in her bones was chased away by a rush of adrenaline and while the car came closer, she sat up straighter. 

It wasn’t Gwens car. As it passed the street, Soph slumped back into the couch. 

The weariness was back and felt like lead in her bones. She was surprised that the couch didn’t just bend and break under her weight. 

If someone rang the doorbell right now, she wouldn’t be able to get up. Her heart would beat out of her chest again and she’d be as tense as a bow, but she wouldn’t be able to move a single muscle aside the ones necessary for crying. 

She was drained. She had mustered all of her strength to face a monster today and it had drained her further. The monster had lost some of its claws in her skin and she couldn’t pull them out, though they pumped venom through her veins. Alby wouldn’t leave her thoughts and she couldn’t help the guilt and doubts that arose in her about how she had handled the whole situation. 

Tears streamed down her face and every now and then, sobs escaped the mouth that was so tightly shut. 

She didn’t hear Gwen’s car as it turned into the street and parked in the driveway. The sound of the door being opened made her jump in her seat. 

“Gwen?” she asked and almost swallowed the word at the speed she tried to get it out of her tight throat. 

“Yes, it’s just me,” Gwen answered. The jingling of keys followed the sound of the closet door. “Are you alright? I’m sorry I took longer than I said, I had underestimated how big and far away Marino actually. Soph, are you okay?” Gwen had stepped into the living room. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

Soph shook her head once but froze in the process. 

Gwen frowned and sat down next to her. “Really? Did something go wrong with the muffins?” 

Soph’s heart skipped a beat and dropped into her guts. “I totally forgot about them,” she said with the same choked voice from before. 

“Dear, don’t worry about it. You stay here while I look after them. They’ll be fine, I wasn’t gone for too long.” 

Soph spaced out, her eyes on the wall while her ears were with Gwen. The oven door opened and after a few steps, the grate rattled. “Don’t worry Soph, they look marvellous!” Gwen called before her steps neared the living room again. “Once they’re cooled down, you can try one and we can bake the rest of the batter.” _  
_

“That’s good.” Soph took her eyes off the wall and looked at her hands as Gwen sat down next to her again. 

Her hands shook. 

“Soph. What is wrong?”  

She tried to take a deep breath and only halfway managed it. Her breath sped up. Her hands still shook. She hyperventilated. 

“I don’t know!” Soph coughed. 

“You don’t – “

“I don’t know!” She yelled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” 

Soph didn’t know where her body took the water for all the tears from. Yet they streamed down her face again as she buried it in her hands. Her fingers dug into her hair and pulled at it. Gwen wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close, but it didn’t help. 

“Soph, stop that.” Gwen put a hand on hers and Soph dropped hers immediately. Before she could ball them into fists, Gwen’s hand was back on top of hers. She caressed the back of her hand. “Everything’s too much for you right now, isn’t it?” 

Soph nodded. She leant her head against Gwen’s chest. 

“I’m such a dumb stupid useless little girl,” she said. 

“No, you aren’t, Soph.” 

“Yes, yes I am.” Her breathing matched Gwen’s now. “My throat hurts.” 

“I’ll get you some water. Did you finish your tea?”

“Yes.” 

“Then I’ll get you some water, unless you want something else.” 

“Water’s fine.” Soph sat up straight and wiped away the tears and snot in her face. 

Gwen luckily returned not only with a glass of water but tissues as well so Soph didn’t have to go through with wiping her hands on her shirt. She emptied half of the glass in one go. 

Gwen sat next to her again and put a hand on her back. Soph enjoyed the way she rubbed it. 

“You aren’t a stupid little girl, Soph. You are a young lady who’s just trying to get by. No one ever manages everything perfectly.” 

“No, I’m dumb as hell. And I’m not a lady either.” She took a deep breath. “I should have just ignored him from the start.” 

“Who?” 

Soph took another deep breath. “Alby,” she muttered. 

The ceiling creaked. It was weirdly loud in the silence. 

Gwen sighed. “Maybe. But you didn’t and we can’t change anything about it. You didn’t do anything wrong by throwing that box at him. You panicked because he harassed you and wouldn’t leave your house – where he had no business, mind you. It was self-defence, period.” 

“I know …” 

“He trespassed. If you’re afraid that he’s going to get back at you because you threw a _plastic_ box at him, we can take this to court.” 

“I’m not afraid of that!” Soph realized that this statement wasn’t entirely true while she said it, but quickly moved on. “I don’t want to go to court! I just wished I had ignored him and actually acted like a sensible adult and not run my big, stupid mouth and said things I should have kept to myself!” 

“Soph, you aren’t an adult yet, you’re barely seventeen. Stop thinking you have to act like one. Who should have taught you to act like a sensible adult, anyways?” 

Soph gave her a surprised look which quickly was replaced by a frown. 

Gwen returned her look but grew visibly more uncomfortable. She pressed her lips together before she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. 

“I would have acted the same as you did, Soph. I know very well that often it is better to shut up, but I just can’t and never could. I can’t teach you to not run your mouth and neither can your brother and neither can Charlie, because we’re all bad at it. Your father was the right person to do it and he tried to teach you two to be calm and considerate. Aaron did his best and raised two lovely people, who are very helpful and considerate and care for others very much, but he still … “ 

Soph nodded once Gwen mentioned her father and a warm feeling appeared in her chest when she talked about her and her brother. 

“You two just have a temper from god knows where and nobody can help that, especially not me. Paddy tries to help you with it but he’s … He is an old stubborn fool. You’re surrounded by a lot of stubborn, bitter people who can only tell you to follow their words, not their deeds.” Gwen chuckled but carried on without a smile. “On top of that, Harry and Paddy are so often abroad and can’t always be there for you when you need it. I know I can’t always help you, either …” 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Gwen.” 

Paddy had said they would probably stay for another day. She wondered when they would come back tomorrow. They would probably call her once more today to tell her when exactly they would come back now. 

If they would come back at all. 

Luckily enough, Gwen swept those thoughts aside as she carried on. “I think I will always beat myself up over it and so will your brother. He tries, though. We all try our best to be there for you, but we’re terrible role models.”

“You aren’t terrible role models.” Soph put her head onto Gwen’s shoulder. “You all love me and try to help me the best you can. Harry tries his best and spends more time with me lately … so does Paddy, even when I know that they all have a lot of shit going on in their lives as well. Charlie is also always there when I need him and so are you … You’re not the problem. I am. I don’t know what I want …” She sighed. “I don’t know what to do with my life. Where I want to go as person. Does this make sense?”  
Gwen caressed her back and chuckled. “That makes a lot of sense. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life when I was your age … You’ll just have to find your own way, Soph. Everyone has and we’ll help you find yours, even if we aren’t a big help.” 

“You’re a big enough help to me,” Soph said. 

“If you say so, then I will believe you. Now don’t worry anymore, alright Sophie? Not about Alby and not about your future. You’re a wonderful young woman, do you know that.”

“That’s debateable.” Soph grinned. 

“It’s not. Do you want to try one of the muffins? They should have cooled down by now and there’s still enough batter left to make enough for your class. I’m afraid I left the oven on, anyways. I just hope I didn’t leave it open.” 

Soph snorted. Maybe she would take a lot of time to become a sensible adult or maybe she’d never become one. She’d be in good company.  
Dolcetto was so sick. He was sick from all the curves he had to negotiate, or maybe it was the painkillers which upset his stomach. Maybe it was both.  
  


* * *

  
His eyes set on the Porsche that crossed the intersection ahead of him, he was however absolutely convinced that their bullshit was what made him sick.  

After their hijinks at the Piazza Navona, they had avoided the trap they had set up at the Via dei Leutari and instead followed the Lungoteveres down the city. Dolcetto and Francesco had to have cross bridges and manoeuvre through ridiculously small streets only to end up on the big roads again. Feliciano was chasing their subordinates through Rome every five minutes anew. 

He accelerated and drove close enough to the Porsche to see the back of Bontade’s head. If they’d slow down or he’d hit the gas a little too hard and either of them blinked for a second, they’d collide. 

At this point, Dolcetto was ready to take that risk; anything to catch them. A little earlier he had already once thought some part of his car had scratched the uneven ground while he had negotiated another curve with too much speed. It probably was an achievement that some of these roads were still standing after 2000 years, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still shit after 2000 years in use. 

His car hadn’t rattled afterwards though and he was still driving, so Dolcetto didn’t pay much thought to it. All his strained nerves could think about was how he would finally catch them and make them pay for what they did to him today. No matter how much he wrecked his head, he couldn’t imagine any outcome other than that he’d _wreck them._ For straining his nerves and jaw, Dolcetto would strain Bontade every single muscle in his body. 

His headphone buzzed. “Are they heading back to the Capitoline or further south?” Francesco asked him and Dolcetto threw a short look onto his nav. 

“Neither. They’re on the Vico Jugario right now and I’m right behind them.” 

While Francesco didn’t answer, Dolcetto threw another look at his nav and steered further to the right. 

“I’m coming from the south,” Francesco said. “I bet they’re headed for the Circo Massimo, that would just fit right in with whatever roundabout childhood trauma Higgins has.” 

Dolcetto only paid a glance to the parking lot next to them. The Porsche had sped up but Francesco’s words had put Dolcetto off his stride. 

“With his what – Franci, shove your hobby psychology elsewhere and fucking focus!”

“I am focused! Focused on how to catch them! You block their way back, I’ll try to block the roads that lead to the Circo Massimo!” 

Dolcetto concentrated on catching up. Ahead of them, the pillars of the Temple of Saturn rose over the street. They went out of his field of vision when they negotiated another curve, so he followed suit and for a second, he drove next to the Porsche. 

He caught a glimpse of Bontade’s face and wanted to puke all over his dashboard. Once the Porsche was ahead of him again, the image only spurred him on. 

“I’m almost there, just passed the Circo, where are you?” Francesco asked him. “Are they on the Via Teodoro?” 

“I –“ The Porsche turned right into another street and Dolcetto had to jerk the wheel around. The street was small and he had both hands on the wheel to stay on track. The Porsche turned right once more into an even smaller street and Dolcetto thought for a second his arms would fall off. 

Thankfully, the Porsche had to slow down as well this time before they ran over one of the tables that stood outside. Dolcetto wished they would though, so that the table would shatter the window pane and fly right into their faces. 

He pressed his headset and truthfully answered: “I don’t know!” before they went around another sharp bend. 

It took Dolcetto a second. Once they reached the end of the street, he was sure of it. 

They had driven around in a circle. If he had stayed where he had been and not followed them into the stupidly small street, he might would have been able to stop them. If he had only taken a second to look at his nav to answer Francesco’s stupid question, he could have seen it coming. He could have put an end to it. 

“Fuck you!” He slammed his fist down onto his wheel. It jerked to the right and Dolcetto steered towards a wall. 

His first instinct was to jerk the wheel to the other side. His fingers closed around it. He steered to the left again. His right front tyre scraped against a stone bollard. 

He was back on track when the Porsche reached the end of the street and turned right.  

He felt his heartbeat in the veins of his throbbing head. There was water in his eyes and his sight was going blurry. 

_It was just a bollard, what the fuck. You’re fine, nothing happened. Get a grip!  
_

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and hit the gas. His headphone buzzed. 

“I can see them on the Via Teodoro now, where are you? Did something happen?” Francesco asked.

“Only their idiocy,” Dolcetto said. Way quieter and through grid teeth, he added, “and mine.” He turned right with screeching tyres and saw the Porsche far ahead of him.

“I’m behind them now.”

“Good. I’m waiting at the Circo Massimo and we set a new trap in the Via dei Serpenti. We’re trying to leave it at this one now and guide them to it.” 

“A sensible decision, finally,” Dolcetto said. The Porsche had slowed down and he had almost caught up. The bigger the streets, the slower they drove. 

It didn’t make sense but nothing about them did. They were on the flight and hadn’t once even attempted to leave the city centre. At this point Dolcetto simply hoped they’d run out of gas and break down in the middle of the street. 

As they took their time, he took his to look up where the Via dei Serpenti was – and frowned when his nav did a big jump from his current location. 

“Franci, the Via dei Serpenti is near the Piazza Venezia again,” he told Francesco. 

“They’re –“ he heard a car honk through the headset, “going to go back anyways, you’ll just see. After they drove a few rounds around the Circo Massimo.” 

“Why should they?! Why should they go yet again back to the city center?!” 

“Because they’ve did it twice already! You’ve got to think like them, Dolcetto, get into the head of your enemy.”

“There’s nothing to get into and as long as I have a functioning brain, I won’t be able to wrap my head around this bullshit!”

Francesco’s laughter made him grip the wheel tighter and he broke the connection. Francesco picked it up immediately again, much to his dismay. 

“Just accept that they’re going to drive three times around the Circo Massimo and then head back over the Collosseo.” They reached a large intersection and Dolcetto spotted Francesco’s white Ferrari immediately. He crossed the intersection slowly as Dolcetto came to a hold next to the Porsche. 

“If I ever have to see the Vittoriano ever again in my life, I will blow it up,” Dolcetto said before he threw a glance at the Porsche beside him. Wanted to, anyways, had Bontade not had the same idea and their eyes met. 

Francesco’s answer – “Don’t do that Dolcetto, that’ll look extremely bad on our portfolio, no matter how fascist and ugly the thing is” – was drowned out when Bontade moved his fingers. 

He waved at him with a grin that made Dolcetto want to punch his teeth in, before his hand made a fist and wandered to his head. His grin had changed into a smug one as he knocked his fist against his head. 

_Stubborn, aren’t you?_

As long as Dolcetto had lived in Venice and tried to hide away from the whole world, his grasp at gestures had been wonky at best. The further he had moved south however, the more gestures he had picked up. His best teachers had without a doubt been Francesco and the Sicilians – especially when it came to insulting gestures. 

Bontade’s arm was draped over Higgins shoulder; Dolcetto wished he’d slap Higgins on accident as he stretched out his arm and wagged it up and down. 

_Slowly, slowly._

He gripped the wheel tighter, but couldn’t take his eyes off the other. Bontade clung to the driver’s backseat; his arms nearly wrapped around Higgins, who gave Bontade an amused, if questioning look. Maybe Michele wasn’t the only who suffered from a terrible lapse of taste and now stuck his tongue down Irish throats. 

The picture that appeared in his head made Dolcetto shudder. 

Bontade had just repeated the gesture from before, with the only difference that he had shown Dolcetto his palm now - 

_Calm down  
_

_-_ when his expression changed. If the mental image from before had made him want to puke, the mischievous grin on Bontade’s face made him want to spit right into it. 

His fingers raised up, they contracted again and again, before he curled them into a fist with a raised index finger and shook his hand. 

_You’re afraid, aren’t you? We tricked you, that’s why!  
_

Bontade struck his tongue out at him and Dolcetto let out a frustrated growl. 

_Who laughs last laughs longest_ , he thought to himself as Bontade ‘spoke up’ again. 

His pointed index finger, he whirled his hand before his fingertips touched each other – all while he laughed. 

_Until later, you’ve got tricked again!_

Dolcetto had already lifted his hands off the wheel when Bontade added the cherry on top of it. 

He curled his fingers onto his palm and twitched his pinkie and Dolcetto could hear his voice in his mind.

_Shorty.  
_

The gesture actually referred to something more insulting than body size, but the way the twins used it and the way Dolcetto thought about his own height, _shorty_ was the ‘translation’ that had stuck to him. 

Now Dolcetto used one of the only gestures he had known even before he had moved south: he raised his fist while his other hand slapped the crook of his arm. “Kiss my ass!” he said when he heard the Porsche’s engine start again. 

Fuck. He should have paid attention to the traffic light instead of the insufferable jerkass. 

He hit the gas and quickly switched gears, but he had barely left the intersection when the Porsche drove straight ahead and disappeared behind a line of cars. 

Dolcetto let out a frustrated growl and followed them into the narrow strait. Out of the corner of his eyes, whenever the cars and trees allowed it, he could look down onto the Circo Massimo. 

That was when it dawned on him. 

He made sure his hand was firmly on the wheel before he pressed his headset. “They’re just going to drive around the Circo Massimo, huh Franci?” 

He couldn’t comprehend the answer Francesco gave him in his Neapolitan dialect, but the tone of voice was enough to fuel his glee. He would have loved to see Francesco’s face right now, screwed up in anger and a frown full of disappointment with himself. 

He concentrated on the street instead. After all, he wasn’t Francesco who leant back with an irritating amount of self-confidence. 

“I’ll try come in from above,” Francesco answered him. “Make sure they don’t drive any further down south.” 

“So we’re still sticking with the Via dei Serpenti?” 

“Yes. If they won’t stick to any plan, why should we? Fighting fire with fire, Dolco.” Though the bitter undertone was still present, the optimism in his voice had returned.

“Also, think of poor Feli who has to coordinate this whole mess, the boy deserves a break.” 

Mess was a real good word to describe their plan, Dolcetto thought as he negotiated two curves in a row. Instead of Michele and his friends voluntarily walking right into their traps in an attempt to disappear from their radar, they drove around as if they were the star of a Grand Prix race. Not to mention that they hadn’t found a trace of Michele himself yet. 

_We tricked you! You’ve got tricked again!  
_

Bontade’s image appeared in his mind again. His fingers cramped around the wheel and his arms went stiff. The car to his right came closer. 

_Steer left. Carefully._

He fixed his eyes on the street and his surroundings. He ignored how his jaw hurt, he ignored how his back ached from the falls he had taken. He ignored everything that had happened today. 

_It’s like climbing - Take one wrong step, grab one stone too hastily and you’ll break your spine. You’re hanging five meters above the ground, right now matters. Not how you ended up here._

The street straightened and Dolcetto was glad for it. He was right behind the Porsche which, as expected, tried to speed away again. 

Now only one car would need to move in front of them and that would be all it would take to stop them. The way Bontade clung to the driver seats – and the driver – he’d be sent flying through the window pane. What a pity he wouldn’t be able to see it in all of its glory while he was stuck behind them. 

“Where are you right now?” Francesco interrupted his daydreams and he threw a short look onto his nav. 

“Via di Santa Sabina.” _Concentrate on what is happening, not on what could happen._

“I see. I’m taking the Via di San Alessio. Tell me when they change direction, will you?”

“Yeah, sure.” The street crossed another one and the Porsche ahead of him slowed down. They didn’t slow down for long, but it was long enough for him to frown and steer slowly to the left. 

The street to their left had clearly been wider and more their speed than the one straight ahead of them. Why were they hesitating all out of sudden?

Why was he overthinking it all of a sudden?! The street was probably a one way street, like so many of the small streets they had driven on today! There probably wasn’t any reason behind it at all, maybe Bontade had just finally choked Higgins while he clung to him! 

They passed another parking lot and the Porsche turned left. With his eyes fixed onto the back of Bontade’s head, Dolcetto pressed the button on his headset. 

“They turned into the Via Raimonda da Capua,” he told Francesco. 

Two seconds later, they were near the end of the street already when Francesco answered: “Keep them to the left, will you? We’ll meet at the Piazza Diana.” 

“’Course I will!” he returned and steered to the left. He could already spot another parking lot to their left again and wondered for a brief moment why Rome’s street were full of cars when there were parking lots around every damn corner. 

His right front tyre touched the sidewalk for only a second and his wing mirror hit the pole of the street sign for even less. 

Or so. Dolcetto couldn’t tell. He only heard a loud bang and the next thing he remembered was how his car slowed down. 

His heart beat out of his chest and the pain in his eyes became so great he was afraid he’d black out any second. 

He stared straight ahead onto the parking lot. The yellow coat of the Porsche caught his eye as they passed the parking lot and disappeared behind a wall into another street. 

_Great, didn’t they all tell you you would only wreck your car?! Now Gabriella’s going to cry again about how you’re always putting yourself into danger. They’re all going to tell you they told you so, belittle you, treat you like a kid again! Like the fucking burden you are! A stupid fucking kid that can’t get anything right! You’ve worked this hard for this?! For_ this _?! Kiss your fucking position goodbye if you keep on fucking up! Who’s supposed to take you serious, you little fucking crybaby!  
_

He felt how a tear clung to his chin, tickled the spot with suspension. 

_Crybaby! Over a fucking wing mirror!  
_

He grid his teeth together and hastily wiped his face before he took a look to his right. 

His wing mirror had been ripped off by the hinge, but the hinge itself seemed unharmed – except for the wires that stuck out of it. 

His front tyre also seemed to work just fine when Dolcetto started his car again and followed the Porsche. If his coat was scratched, if he had a dent in his fender, what did he care? He had sacrificed a lot more than his wing mirror to end up where he was now. He had stretched himself to his limits and then overstepped them. He was hardy, he had to be in this world and he would show these assholes. What didn’t kill him made him stronger. 

He had to almost reach the end of the street to spot the Porsche again – far ahead of him. He wiped his burning eyes one last time and accelerated. 

Of course the street lead to another parking lot. 

His headset buzzed. “Dolcetto, where’s your wing mirror?” 

He had completely forgotten about Francesco and caught himself rearing his head to find him. 

“In the Via Raimonda or something. Can’t remember.” He had almost caught up. 

“Why is it there and not attached to your car, as it’s supposed to be?”  

“Don’t ask dumb questions! I hit a street sign, alright?! Because of your stupid warning I drove to the left to cut them off if necessary and I hit a street sign! Where are you?!” 

“Via Marcello, to keep our right flank covered. Are you sure it was all due to my stupid warning, though?” 

Dolcetto loathed the neutral, friendly tone of Francesco’s words. As if he wouldn’t know what accusation hid behind it. Francesco had been blunt enough to say it to his face in the garage, but now he tiptoed around the topic and treated him like a toddler he didn’t want to upset. 

“Shove your fucking fake concern up your ass, Franci! And get off my fucking back! I lost a wing mirror, so what?! I’m still driving! I can handle this, as I said, I’m still handling it!” 

Dolcetto had finally caught up and negotiated the curve ahead of him even more sharpily than the last one. Luckily, they turned into a rather broad street afterwards. 

“Right now it’s just a wing mirror, but next time it might as well be you! Don’t you think we’ve lost enough today already?” 

“You’re asking me that?! You’re asking _me_ that?! I know what we’ve lost and I’ve had it up to here with them! So why don’t you just let me do my job?!” 

“Do you think it’s really your job to wreck yourself, come hell or high water?” 

_They don’t understand, they never understood -  
_

_If you fuck up, you could ruin the entire mission. You want to play big hero and instead hinder everyone. You stupid, stubborn child -  
_

“If I crash, then it’s my own stupid fault! I know that, okay?! I’ll take the blame if I fuck up! Now fucking mind your own business!” He broke the connection and hit the gas. He didn’t need to, but he wanted to. 

“Dolcetto, this isn’t about blame!” Francesco’s answer was not what he wanted to hear; he ripped his hand away from the wheel to pluck the headset out of his ear, but thought better of it. “It’s about worry! It doesn’t matter if you hurt yourself because of them or if they hurt you, we just don’t want you hurt! Do you think it would be fun for any of us to watch you lie in hospital or worse, dead in a car wreck?” 

The traffic light in front of them turned red and Dolcetto prayed that the Porsche would just floor it, but of course his prayers went unheard. As if these motherfuckers would ever do anything that would help him. Now he stood here, all alone with his thoughts and Francesco’s voice in his head. 

“I’m not going to fucking kill myself,” he said and chose to choke off both. “Let’s just catch these assholes and bring back the stupid fucking painting, okay? That’s what we all want, don’t we? That’s what Gabriella wants, too, doesn’t she?! I’ll give her back her painting and then she can happily ignore what I did to get it!” The streetlight hadn’t changed yet but Dolcetto switched into the lane right of the Porsche. 

“She wouldn’t be happier over the painting than over your well-being, Dolcetto.”

He clenched his jaw tight shut and it hurt. It hurt to the point tears ran his face down again and he felt a sob in his throat, but he didn’t ease the grip. 

“Shut the fuck up, Franci,” he said. “She would be a lot happier, you all would be a lot happier if you would get off my case and leave me alone. I don’t fucking need you acting as an extension of my sister and only being worried about me to it make your oh so beloved Gabriella happy.” He wiped his eyes and stared at the traffic light again. He’d die on the spot if he looked to the Porsche next to him and saw their reactions to him crying. 

“I’ve been your partner in crime for a year and a half but I’ll stop with it, alright.” Dolcetto didn’t trust the sincerity and weight in Francesco’s voice. “Don’t clench your jaw like that, though. You need a head as clear as possible, making your pain worse doesn’t help you drive better.

Dolcetto looked to his right and without a fail, the white Ferrari stood to his right at the intersection as the traffic light turned green. Dolcetto hoped Francesco saw the bitter look he threw him before he followed the Porsche to the left. 

Francesco’s corners of the mouth still drooped and the look might as well have glanced off his sunglasses. His eyes couldn’t tell.  
  


* * *

  
If someone would have wanted to have the definition of “conspicuously inconspicuous”, they would have to look no further than into a certain Mini in Rome. 

Lorenzo sat now, but had slid down the seat as far as possible to avoid being spotted. The hood of his sweater was pulled down over his eyes. 

Michele envied him for it, since his own hood gravely annoyed him. The brim wouldn’t rest right on the top of his head without almost sliding off and if he put the hood on properly, it fell into his eyes. 

He would envy Paddy even more for _his_ solution to the problem if it wouldn’t offend Michele’s good taste. His outdoor jacket allowed him to pull the hole of his hood shut and thus keep it in place without blocking his view. 

An advantage that Paddy took. His head scratched against the car ceiling and their eyes met when Michele took a last look around the square before he turned into another street.  

Michele decided to focus on driving. 

“Who else do you think is out on the streets?” Lorenzo asked. “Aside from Lovino.” 

“Probably that half of the company that isn’t already combing Rome by foot,” Michele answered. 

“All this fuss for a bloody painting,” Paddy muttered. “Did you steal the actual Mona Lisa from them or why are they hunting us down like that?” 

“Lovino has lost his goddamn mind, that’s why he’s making such a fuss, if you ask me,” Michele answered. 

“It doesn’t matter what kind of painting it is, what matters is that we stole it from right under their noses.” The strain that Lorenzo’s position put on him was reflected in his voice, but so was the pride he took in their heist. “It’s just a game between the two of us. Power play, you know, Paddy?” 

“It doesn’t really feel like a game anymore to me,” Paddy answered. 

Michele bristled and it took him quite some energy to relax his muscles enough to talk. “Neither does it to me, but that makes me all the more adamant about not losing. If Lovino wants to go all out, then that’s his decision, but he’s only going to learn that he can try until he’s blue in the face, he’ll never catch me.” 

It didn’t feel like a game anymore indeed. Michele had went ridiculous lengths before and so had the Vargas, but in the end they had never taken any measures that outvalued the price of winning. They had saved their resources for the time when it wasn’t about flexing your muscles, but putting them to work. 

It was Michele’s turn at their game, that should have been all there was to it.

The Vargas hadn’t posed a real threat to him lately; not more than already anyways. Michele had thought it was a good time to show off his power and reinforce to the Vargas the borders that they shouldn’t dare to lay a finger on. 

Especially now that his partnership with the Irish had grown closer over the last month and he had been able to catch some first looks of the working behind the scenes of Ireland’s and Northern Europe’s criminal scene. Not to mention that tax evasion paradise Ireland was the perfect place for money laundering and the deal he had struck with Harry was wielding excellent results for both of them. 

For the first time in a long while, in years, he had stepped into the business of mainland Europe again. What better opportunity to confirm this fact and reinforce his partnership with the Irish than a little power play with the help of his new partners? 

The street went on straight for another few hundred meters and Michele accelerated. 

It should have ended after the scenes in the hotel. They should have been able to leave the city without seeing a single henchman of the Vargas, let alone Lovino himself scouring the streets for them. 

There shouldn’t have been a situation in which Harry had been forced to knock someone out and Michele prayed that the woman hadn’t suffered any real injuries.  
Although it would explain the Vargas efforts if she had been hurt. Or hadn’t been unconscious in first place. 

Michele tried to shake the thought off, but its echo still trailed through his mind. 

If Harry had only handled the situation a little differently, then Michele wouldn’t have to think about an accidental bodycount he had never wanted to risk. 

_Your puppy just makes trouble, why aren’t you putting him on a leash?_

Michele shook as goose bumps ran across his skin. The wheel creaked as he pressed down on it. 

“What’s wrong?” Paddy asked. Michele reached the intersection at the end of the road and took a quick look around. He threw a short look into the rear-view mirror.

“Lorenzo?” 

“If I’d saw something suspicious I’d tell you,” he answered in Italian. 

Instead of letting that answer relax him, he forced himself to glance at Paddy. There wasn’t a trace of anger on Paddy’s face, as far as Michele could tell and he was thankful for it. He turned into the street left of them. “Nothing.” Finally, some of his muscles relaxed again. 

Another judgmental look was the last thing he needed right now. Michele had thought the Irish wouldn’t be more than a helping hand in this mission and that once the heist was over, they could have all enjoyed a fun weekend in Rome. He had thought of it rather as a dress rehearsal for future teamwork than an actual acid test. 

Now he found his reputation, his relationship with his boyfriend and his nerves put on trial. Without ever intending to risk any of these things during this weekend, he could now lose them all. 

He should’ve know it couldn’t have went the way he had planned it the moment he had offered the Irish to play a part in it. Not that the Irish’s impulsive nature was at fault for Lovino’s ridiculous measures to cure his injured pride. 

They reached another intersection and Michele looked around. Cars parked at the corners of the street and he had to wait for one car to pass him before he drove straight ahead. He heard Paddy’s head scratch against the ceiling again. They passed the sports field and playground of a few apartment blocks. Despite the cold weather, some teenagers and parents with their children were out in the sun and played. 

He didn’t want to come to a hold a few metres later, but slowed down and scanned the surroundings of the intersection. 

“Don’t see anyone,” Paddy said as Michele considered which of three streets to take. 

“Good,” he answered and drove ahead. Paddy had taken him by surprise for a moment, but he should appreciate it. Three pairs of cautious eyes would always see more than two and they were all in the same boat. He shouldn’t be surprised by a partner in crime helping him. 

_Because they have done you so much good already, haven’t they? Your partners in crime._

Instead of tensing up again, Michele took the energy to immerse himself in his thoughts. 

_That loverboy of yours and his stupid ideas that drag you down, you spineless coward -  
_

“Shut. Up.” Michele hissed, the words merely a whiff. _  
_

_I’m just saying what you’re thinking,_ son.  

A shiver ran down his spine and left him with goose bumps. He took one hand off of the wheel to rub his arm as he turned around a corner. 

The voice of his father and all the terror that had come with it promptly flew from his mind as a new fear crept into his bones. 

The scrub that covered the lot to their right had withered and died already. Ahead he saw a few cars parked next to each other in front of another apartment complex and what could be the entrances to some small stores. 

He might had driven into a dead end. While he tried to avoid any broad streets to minimize the risk of being seen in first place, he knew that the risk to get lost grew the smaller the streets became.  

A risk that was much more dangerous, since it could lead to the worst case scenario of being stuck with a Vargas right behind them. 

As if paralyzed, he put his other hand to the wheel again and hit the gas. A relieved sigh left him as he went around the bend and saw the street meet another one. 

“You’re alright, Michele?” Lorenzo asked in Italian. 

Michele nodded. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m fine,” he responded in Italian and took a look around. 

So did Paddy. “Didn’t we come from there?” he asked and pointed with his thumb down the road. Michele’s eyes followed it. Indeed, after a few moments he recognized the intersection from earlier. 

He had taken a minor detour that wouldn’t have been enough to shake off any potential chasers. He had wasted time for nothing but a heart attack. 

All the breath he had bottled up while he had realized his stupidity left him with another sigh and angry bristle. 

“I’m alright,” he mocked his own words from earlier. 

“Should I worry or are you just letting steam off?” Paddy asked him and Michele looked at him. He couldn’t tell if it was scepticism or insecurity he saw in his eyes. 

“Just letting steam off. You shouldn’t worry at all, Patrick.” He turned left and hit the gas. “Everything is under control.” 

Michele didn’t need Paddy, or even Lorenzo, to feel either scepticism or insecurity. He had promised that he’d get them all out of here, so what kind of leader was he that he was doubted? 

The worst face loss he could suffer wasn’t in front of Lovino or the Irish, but in front of himself and hell would freeze over before he’d walk out of this as a coward. 

No more doubts, no more fears, instead a man of honour who fought tooth and nail to keep his promises. 

“Lorenzo, as soon as we reach the highway, I want that you call your brother,” he said.

The street lead straight ahead and Michele did nothing more but scan the cars parked along the side street, yet it took him a few moments to notice the radio silence. 

He frowned and had opened his mouth already when he rethought what he had just said. 

“You can also call Harry if you don’t want to talk to your brother. I only need you to tell them that we’re safe and that they should head straight to the highway as well. We’ll discuss our meeting point when the time has come, but we’re going north for sure. Understood?”

“Call them once we’re on the highway, got it.” 

“Sounds like a plan.“ Paddy was interrupted by the sound of his own head scratching against the ceiling as he looked into a side street. 

“Don’t you have a headache from all of this?” Michele asked and knocked against his own one while his eyes stayed on the street. 

“And a stiff neck and stiff joints. But don’t worry about my old bonehead. Am almost fifty and haven’t died yet, that’s the healthiest I expect to get in this business.” 

“I really wish this weekend would have been nothing but relaxing for all of us, but we’ll have to work with what we’ve got. Don’t worry though, it won’t be long until you’re out of this car.” 

“From your lips to God’s ears, Michele,” Paddy answered. “You’ve got any plan for how to go on once we met up as well?” 

“Of course.” Michele wasn’t sure if he had only imagined the edge in Paddy’s voice, but he couldn’t keep it out of his voice. “I thought about further heading north, I know of few wonderful places in Umbria where we can stay the night if needed. Of course, if we’re able to get you back home today, as it was planned, we’ll drive straight through until the next big city that’s a safe distance from Rome and has a sufficient airport.” 

“It’d be great if we could get home as planned,” Paddy said and sighed. Was it a sigh of relief? Michele glanced at him from the corners of his eyes. It was a moment before they reached the end of the street and Paddy turned his head again, caution written into the tense muscles of his face, but Michele believed he had seen it. 

Relief. A faint smile on his lips. 

He directed his attention back to the road again. A car drove past them, but Michele’s eyes barely caught it. It had been a powder blue Fiat 500, a car like many in this city, in this country, so nothing that required his attention. 

Had he not believed to see a scorpion on its backside. Had it been Gabriella? He doubted there were many other powder blue Abarths in Rome who had a reason to be out here on a Sunday noon. 

“Michele, did you see the blue Abarth?” Lorenzo asked. 

“Gabriella?”  

“Very sure. If it weren’t for the damn sun I would have had a perfect view on the driver.”  
Michele knew why he avoided the big streets. When he crossed the intersection, he threw a look down the streets, but the car had disappeared. 

“Shit,” Paddy muttered into his hand. He rubbed his mouth and his seven day stubble produced a grating sound against his hand. “I only saw a blue car from the corner of my eyes, can’t help you here.” 

“Trust my eagle eyes, it must have been Gabriella,” Lorenzo said. “I don’t know if she saw us, though.”

“Let’s hope the sun was on our side as well and she couldn’t look inside of our car either,” Michele answered and drove past a gas station. “Not that it matters because they won’t be able to find us again, not if they try to look for us in such obvious places.”

“How are you going to get out of Italy once we made it out of Rome?” Paddy asked. “Take the next flight back to Palermo as well?” 

“If we’re able to send the painting back to Palermo through one of our men or one of the few partners we have in Italy, we might as well fly. I also thought of taking a ferry to Sardinia and then Sicily. Either way, we’ll get back home safely.” 

“I hope so, because if we went through all this trouble only for you to be caught in the last second, I’ll kick myself. We didn’t deal with all this shit only for us to sit helplessly on our arses, thousand miles away while you have to carry the can alone.” 

“Thanks for the concern Paddy, but we’re the last people you should worry about. We’ve always gotten out of this before and to me it doesn’t seem like the Vargas have become any cleverer,” Lorenzo expressed what Michele thought but in a friendlier tone than he could have mustered. 

A friendlier tone Michele felt Paddy deserved. He turned right and carefully steered through the rows of cars that stood on either side of the street and halved its width.  
All the cars were empty and once he reached the end of the street and turned right once more, his nerves had relaxed enough for his mind to wander. 

Of course, maybe Paddy just worried about them on a professional level. Maybe he was even afraid that once caught by the Vargas, they would sing about to save their own skin. Michele felt so revolted by the thought alone, he didn’t dare consider that Paddy would truly think of them like that. 

Maybe Paddy was only worried about Michele on Harry’s behalf, tolerated him as long as he made Harry happy and didn’t worry him. 

The street lead to the bigger one they had crossed earlier, but Michele nipped all his doubts in the bud and carefully watched the cars that passed. He hadn’t recognized any of them as he turned left and since the next street they passed was kind enough to have a dead end sigh attached to it, he followed the road for a while. 

“You said you always got away before,” Paddy said. “How often have you ‘played’ this game between you and the Italians already?”  

“Often enough for them to look like complete morons for being unable to win even once,” Lorenzo said. 

“In a good mood, aren’t you,” Michele noted. 

“Are you not, Michele?” Now he couldn’t resist and took a look into a rear view mirror. Lorenzo had lifted his head far enough to look ahead and give Michele a bright grin. 

“I don’t want to praise the day before it’s evening,” he replied but a smile had stolen itself onto his lips as well. 

“Mhm-hm,” Paddy buzzed. It sounded like an agreement, but served as a reminder to Michele. 

He cleared his throat and lost his smile during it. “I don’t know for how long we’ve been doing this. Three years at most,“ he explained. “I’m rather sure that once we’ll make it out of this mess, it’ll be our 20th win in a row.” 

The smile returned to his face and as he heard Lorenzo chuckle, he joined in. 

He turned into the next street that appeared to be neither a dead end or a one way street towards them and it wasn’t until its halfway point that Paddy spoke up again. 

“You’ve done this 20 times in the past three years? And they never once won?” 

Michele looked at him but Paddy’s eyes were wide open and fixed at some point ahead of them. A little unsettled by his aghast look, he followed his eyes but the street ahead of them was empty and none of the cars they passed seemed suspicious to him. “That means you pull this kind of stunt every two months,” Paddy said. “For ... power play ?” 

“Amongst other things, yes,” Michele answered. They reached a small intersection and as Michele looked around again, he saw how Paddy stared at him. The disconcertment in his face slowly pierced through his guts like a knife. 

The knife twisted as Paddy’s look lost its surprise. His eyelids lowered and the frown between his brows disappeared. “You’ve got a lot of spare energy and time, you and Lovino, don’t you?” 

_I didn’t offer you to come with us to be belittled by you. I didn’t force you to play our game with us, either. If you think we’re just wasting everyone’s time, then you’re still free to tag out and watch from the sidelines._

He turned left and focused on the road. “And? I am not going to wait until Lovino stretches out his grabby little hands for my island to rap him over his knuckles. It’s power play, amongst other things. This way, I can regularly keep my closest enemy in check and it keeps me from slacking off and neglecting my defences. Call it a waste of time, for me it’s a practice for an emergency and we’ve worked day and night for the past eight years to keep this emergency from happening and I do surely not devote my time and resources to this ‘game’ because I’ve got nothing better to do!” 

Michele was the calm and civilized one. He was the one above it all – until halfway through his explanation turned rant. 

His breath was heavy as he tried to keep at least his angry bristle in. 

“Should have kept my big mouth shut,” Paddy muttered into his hand and the bristle escaped. “No Michele, I mean it.” He had put his hand down. “Should’ve asked you what the other things are and not assume things. Guess our communication could use …” he sighed and Michele heard his jacket rustle as he crossed his arms, “ … a little work.” 

_You say that as if it’s my fault that you don’t trust me an inch.  
_

_And I think that as if I wasn’t assuming contempt behind every frown._

“Well, it’s not unusual that people say things they didn’t mean when they’re under stress. You’ll see, our communication will work on itself just fine once this is over and we all have good laugh about it over a glass of wine.” Michele gave him a smile, but his muscles soon began to protest it. He took a deep breath and rubbed along his cheeks and temples with one hand. 

“Communication is a bitch,” Lorenzo said from the backseat and Michele laughed, no matter how much his face hurt. Paddy joined him

“You and your brother will have a good laugh over a glass of wine, too, once this whole mess is over,” Michele said. 

“Damn right, we’ll have a great time together and there will be no grudges held at the end of the day,” Paddy said. 

“Except grudges against Italians,” Lorenzo said and Michele chuckled once more. They reached yet another intersection when smaller streets crossed the one they were on, one like many they had passed before. Since this time the road ahead had a “No through traffic” sign, Michele turned left. 

“So you really have done this 20 times already and they have never once caught you?” Paddy asked. 

“Nor escaped. I’m not always doing Lovino the favour to come all the way to Rome, so we’re taking turns, but not once have they made it off of Sicily with their loot.” 

“20 times? I don’t think I can buy that,” Paddy said but Michele shrugged. 

“You know, the thing with Lovino is that he’s an unexperienced hothead. He has never made the effort to truly understand Palermo and he never will, no matter how many plans and maps Fabio and his subordinates will whip up for him.” Michele took a look around and crossed the street. “I, in the meantime, know ways and corners in Rome, _his_ city, even he doesn’t know.” 

It was quiet for a few meters and he heard Paddy’s head scratch against the ceiling again. It made him wonder what would look worse in the end, the car ceiling or Paddy’s scalp. 

“You said that he never went all out like this before, didn’t you?” Paddy asked. 

“I did,” Michele answered as a car in front of them pulled out of the row that was parked alongside the road. He frowned at how slowly it moved. Ahead of them, he spotted the entrance to another street, so he hit the gas and steered to the right. 

“Michele –“ Lorenzo began and Michele looked into the rear view mirror. “Gabriella’s there,” he said in Italian when Michele had already seen the car. 

Deep down in his guts, cold panic began to unfurl and crawl along his nerves. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and countered the numbness before it reached his head or hands. 

He saw that the street he wanted to turn into ran parallel to the one they were on; if he only hit the gas fast enough, they could escape. He’d speed away while she was blocked by the car ahead of them. 

He turned right and they all jumped when the Mini hit the curb. 

Ahead of them was a closed gate that led to a few apartment blocks. Didn’t matter to Michele, since the road continued to the left. It would continue, anyways, wouldn’t it be blocked. A Ferrari red Aventador stood right in the middle of it. 

Michele stopped and heard another car brake at the same time right behind him. He didn’t need to look to know that it was Gabriella and he didn’t have the eyes for it. 

Lovino sat on the hood of his car and grinned triumphantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to catch updates, get to know me better or know how else you can support me, consider following me on twitter!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Disastrous Drunken Distraction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329901) by [pyromaniacqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyromaniacqueen/pseuds/pyromaniacqueen)




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